Dinner was quiet but surprisingly pleasant. Leila’s worries about wearing pajamas to the table had been assuaged when she spotted Kelvin in his matching black set. The silk fabric looked expensive. She could have done more research about him, but she found an odd sense of comfort in accepting the bits of information he divulged himself. If they had to be together for at least two years, there was no rush to know everything now.
She was clearing the table when he stopped her with a question.
“What happened to your phone?”
“It fell,” she replied. He peered at it for a few seconds and slid it back to her. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll do the dishes to make it even.”
“Even?”
“You cooked,” she explained. “I’ll do the dishes.”
Kelvin’s mouth opened, but he said nothing. She never though
