Heart-Shaped Hack(33)
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said, laughing. “Like your last name.”
They walked to Wilde Roast Café. Ian had pulled off her glove and shoved it in his pocket so he could hold her hand. Despite the single-digit temperature, Kate was toasty warm in her parka and jeans and the white cable-knit sweater he’d bought her.
“Here we are again,” Ian said after they’d been seated and ordered coffee. “What was it I said to you the day I tracked you here by your credit card activity?”
“You should be trying to make me forget you ever did that.”
“Water under the bridge. I believe what I said was that I’d win you over eventually. Considering I’ve now been inside you, my prediction was quite accurate.” His smile got even bigger, as if he couldn’t be more delighted about the way things had turned out.
Ian was always happy. Forget moody. Forget brooding. An air of amusement surrounded him at all times, as if the world he lived in was just so infinitely entertaining and—in his case—there for the taking.
“You’re quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” she said, smiling back at him.
“Incredibly so.” He opened his menu. “How was your visit home?”
“It was good. I could have done without all the ‘poor Kate’ comments from my assorted relatives. You know, because I’m no longer making the big bucks and Stuart and I broke up. The worst part was they all acted like I got dumped.”
“But you broke up with Stuart.”
“Exactly!” Kate said, pointing at herself. “I broke up with him. Ugh, I sound like I’m in middle school.”
“You should have told them about your new boyfriend.”
She smiled. “Boyfriend?”
He groaned. “Now we’re both in middle school. I need to say something very manly right now.”
“Trust me,” she whispered. “You are the man. A six-foot-four-inch, gorgeous, strapping man with muscles everywhere and a big you-know-what.”
He winked. “Don’t you forget it, sweetness.”
The waitress brought their coffee. “Are you ready to order?”
“Kate?” Ian said.
“Crème br?lée french toast please.”
“And for you?” she asked, looking at Ian.
“Classic Benedict.”
She gathered their menus. “Coming right up.”
“So the rest of the visit was okay?” Ian said, taking a drink of his coffee.
“Yes. Things seem to be back on track with my dad.”
“Had they been off track?”
“He had a hard time when I stopped practicing law. He began his law career as an attorney. My brother is an attorney. I’m no longer an attorney.”
“What does your dad do now?”
“He’s a justice on Indiana’s Supreme Court. Have I not mentioned that?”
“You have not.”
“Worried?”
“Not at all. Parents always find me especially charming.”
“They’ll be in Minneapolis for Christmas. Knock yourself out. Anyway, for the first time ever, my dad asked how the food pantry was doing. We’d never really talked about it before, so I guess we’re making progress. I felt conflicted when I answered him though. If it wasn’t for you and your donations, the report I gave him would have been dismal.”
“Speaking of that,” Ian said.
“No,” Kate said firmly.
He looked surprised. “You’re not even willing to discuss it? Christmas is coming. What about your clients? What about the babies?”
She didn’t want to admit how much she’d already been worrying about Christmas. Kate’s food pantry was teaming up with two other organizations to provide a Christmas Eve dinner that was quite ambitious in scope when it came to the number of people they hoped to feed. Not only that, but Kate wanted to give one unwrapped toy to each child who came through the line. Whether or not they would achieve their goal would depend on the dollar amount they raised and the number of toy donations they were able to bring in.
“I have to do this on my own, Ian. It’s what I set out to do. If I can’t make this work, then I threw away my law career for nothing.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure all nonprofit organizations have their ups and downs. Maybe you can’t help everyone, but you’ve helped a lot of people, and that counts for something.”
“I know it does,” Kate said. “It’s just that once I help them, I feel like I’m letting them down if I can’t keep doing it.”
The waitress brought their meals and they dug in.
“Then let me help you,” he said.
“You’ve already been way too generous. I can’t accept any more.”
“I really haven’t given you that much.”
“You’ve given me three thousand dollars, which is a small fortune considering I can feed eight people for six dollars and twenty-one cents. It isn’t your responsibility to keep the food pantry afloat. I’ll just work harder.”
“Is it because I”—he made air quotes—“appropriated the money?”
“That’s part of it, I guess.”