Dylan didn"t know what to say. The last thing he wanted was to feel like he was treating Lynda like a sugar mama. Even thinking those words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He"d refused to consider going to school, telling himself that he"d get halfway through a degree, his two year contract with Lynda would be up and he"d end up no better off than he"d started. But culinary school. That was an idea. He did love to cook, he loved the way she reacted to his cooking, and wanted to learn to do more. Plus, if Lynda was right and the course took under two years to complete, then he could do it without fear of not being able to finish if she wanted a divorce when the terms were up. Tomorrow, along with putting in applications for jobs, he"d do the research and see what it would take to apply.
