“I made baklava yesterday. Would you like a piece?”
“No, thanks. I had a late lunch. You cook?”
“Yes. Ordering takeout or going out to eat gets old really fast.”
“Not to mention expensive.”
I didn’t tell him it wasn’t expensive when someone else was doing the buying. Then again, maybe that made it even more expensive.
“Are you a good cook?”
“Wills thinks so.” The truth of the matter was, I was a very good cook, but that was something only the boys, and now Wills, knew.
“William knows good cooking. His grandmother—that would be my mother—is one of the best cooks I know, and his mother, God rest her soul, was right up there with her. If he thinks you’re good, I’d say you probably are.”
His words made me blush, and I cleared my throat. “You knew Wills’s mother?”