Chapter 18 - A New Kind of Love
|
Through the glass of the kitchen window, I could see a man frantically waving a dish towel at the smoke alarm.
"Well, I definitely found love," I laughed, watching him struggle. "Though I'm not sure I found a personal chef."
About a year after the wedding that never happened, I met Julian. He was an architect who had been hired to redesign the corporate lobby of my logistics firm. We bumped into each other during a chaotic morning rush, spilling coffee all over his blueprints. Instead of getting angry, he simply laughed, handed me his napkin, and asked if I owed him a dinner to make up for the ruined paper.
He was entirely different from Daniel. Julian was secure, grounded, and possessed a quiet confidence that never required him to belittle anyone else.
"When are you going to put that poor man out of his misery?" my mother laughed as the smoke alarm finally gave a short, dying beep.
"I'll give him two more minutes," I grinned.
Julian stepped out onto the porch a moment later, carrying two plates of what was supposed to be a gourmet chicken piccata. Instead, it looked like a slightly charred science experiment. He wore an apron over his button-down shirt, a smudge of flour across his forehead.
"I tried," he said defensively, though his eyes were dancing with amusement. "The recipe lied to me. It said twenty minutes on high heat."
I stood up, walked over to him, and kissed his flour-smudged cheek. "It looks perfect, Julian. Thank you."
May you like
He set the plates down on the wicker table and pulled a third chair up next to mine. He didn't complain about the failure. He didn't blame the oven. He just laughed at himself and poured us both a glass of wine.
I sat back down, looking at this brilliant, kind man sitting beside me. The contrast between my past and my present was staggering. I had finally found someone who didn't want to conquer my world; he just wanted to share it.
