it back in the oven to heat.
“Do you want some wine?” he nodded over his shoulder at a bottle of Merlot.
“Would you believe me, if I said yes?” I laughed.
“I figured you’d give me some line about being underage,” he winked.
“Nope, not this time. If you’d offered beer, then yes, but once I turned twelve my mom let me drink wine on certain occasions. I’ve acquired a taste for it, but I still don’t have it much.”
“Humph,” he snorted. “Your mom is a trip.”
I shrugged. “She did the best she could.”
“She could’ve done better. You deserved better,” Jared looked at me with steel in his eyes. “No parent should neglect their child the way she did you, or serve her underage kid alcohol.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “Not every parent is perfect, Jared. In fact, there’s no such thing as perfect. Your dad certainly wasn’t perfect.”
“I know that,” Jared leaned against the counter, giving the pasta an occasional stir. “But I was lucky enough to get taken in by people that truly cared and loved me. You didn’t have that, Katy. Who loved you?”
I clenched my jaw, damming back the tears. “No one,” I croaked, and then couldn’t hold the tears back any longer.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Jared pulled me into his arms. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I never want to be the reason for your tears,” he swiped his large thumbs under my eyes.
“You’re not,” I shook my head, my voice thick with emotion.
“But I caused them.”
“No,” I tried to smile, “you’re here to wipe them away.”
“You’re right, kitten,” he bent down, brushing his nose against mine, “and I’ll always be here to wipe your eyes.”
“Enough of this,” I backed out of his grip and ripped off a paper towel to dry my face. “I want to eat this amazing dinner that my lovely boyfriend made.”
“Say it again?” he grinned.
“Say what again?”
“Boyfriend. I love hearing that word come out of your mouth,” his brown eyes sparkled with happiness.
I laughed, shaking my head.
“Say it,” he waited.
“Boyfriend. You are my boyfriend, Jared. My wonderful, fantastical, awesomely amazing, boyfriend that I love.”
“Be still my heart,” he put his hand to his chest.
“Stop it,” I pushed his shoulder lightly.
He chuckled and turned to check on the food. “It’s ready, grab the plates?”
“Sure,” I said, reaching up on my tiptoes to grab them. I placed them on the counter and he scooped the pasta onto both, before grabbing the bread from the oven.
I took the plates and sat them on the table while Jared grabbed two wine glasses and the bottle.
He poured our glasses half full and lit two candles he’d placed on the table. They were Yankee Candles, not the tall ones they had in fancy restaurants, but somehow this was so much better.
He sat down and nervously ran his hands over his jeans. “Is this good?” he motioned to the setup, a nervous tone to his voice.
“It’s perfect, Jared,” I assured him. “I’ll remember tonight for the rest of my life, just like the night at the park.”
He grinned. “That makes me really happy.”
“It’s the truth.”
He kissed my cheek. “I’m glad tonight will be one you’ll never forget,” his voice went husky, “because I’ll never forget a moment that I spend with you.”
I swirled a piece of pasta around the fork and shoved it in my mouth before I said something embarrassing.
Jared chuckled and started eating.
“This is really good,” I told him. “I’ve been meaning to ask, who taught you to cook?”
A distant, almost glacial, look formed in his eyes. “My mom,” He whispered. “I had to fend for myself a lot. Most of the time, she was beaten so badly that she couldn’t make me dinner, so she started teaching me when my dad wasn’t around or passed out drunk. She wanted me to eat normal meals. When I moved in with Dan and Patsy, it was already ingrained in me to cook for myself. Patsy was amazed that I cooked, especially at such a young age, so she started teaching me her family’s recipes.”
“Wow,” I said, picturing Jared as a small child, standing at the stove on a stool as he cooked for himself. It was a sad image and my lower lip began to tremble.
“Katy, please don’t cry,” he begged. “I’m really ruining tonight, aren’t I? This is twice I’ve made you cry.”
“I’m sorry,” I grabbed the paper napkin, wiping at my eyes. “You shouldn’t have had to grow up like that. Jared, why are