Purposefully Accidental

Chapter Thirty-Seven

We're having burritos.

Jonah drove us to get burritos from a small, but busy Mexican place nearest to our hideaway place, as well as some snacks and drinks to go with them. Now we're eating in my car, in the parking lot of a grocery store, as the sun begins to set, because we're very romantic like that.

"What kinda food do you serve at your restaurant? Like, what cuisines?" I ask curiously between bites. "What's your specialty?"

Jonah takes his time chewing before answering. "I do elevated homestyle cooking at my own restaurant. Like, you know, grandma's food, but make it fancy."

"Uh-huh. Like your cookbooks."

"Exactly. But I try to incorporate different flavor profiles from different cuisines. I'm trained in French-style cooking, though, so that's what I'd say my specialty is."

"So you don't do burritos?"

He quirks up a smile. "Not yet, no. You're giving me ideas, though. Let's see what I can come up with."

"Nice." I laugh. Continuing the interview session, I go with, "The Green Grass by The River. Why did you name your restaurant that?"

He pauses, halfway into another bite. Stares at me with an eyebrow to his hairline. "What do you think?" Then bites into the burrito, still looking at me dead in the eyes.

I bit my lip, feeling the blush creeping up my cheeks. "Kind of a strange name for a restaurant, though. Very mouthful."

He smiles. "Sometimes people just call it The River."

"Still strange." I smile back tentatively. "So weird."

He finishes his last bite of the burrito and wipes his hands on a napkin. Then begins, in a wondering tone, "So, you've known the name of my restaurant, all this time, and you didn't think I'd still be head over heels for you?"

"Uhhh. Well." I take a sip of crisp soda. "You... were dating your chef friend? Ring a bell?"

He playfully rolls his eyes at me, and I throw a napkin at his face. He dodges it expertly.

"What? You really think I'm that vain? Like I'm supposed to just assume that the name of your restaurant has anything to do with me when you were dating someone else for, like, I don't know, two years or something? And, no, I didn't personally keep track but Gina informs me sometimes. Nuh-huh. Don't you dare fucking laugh. Asshole!"

He shakes his head with a stupid grin on his face, I can't help but laugh along. "Hannah, I named my restaurant after a place where I took you on your birthday, where we danced in the rain to a song from High School Musical 3 and you almost told me you loved me for the first time, where we spent a whole month building a tree house we just made out in an hour ago. I think it's pretty obvious how I've been feeling for you."

I'm outright blushing and I know I look stupid. "An e-mail would've been nice."

"I assumed it would've been overkill," he says dryly. "Not that you'd read it, anyway. Probably straight to the trash."

"Handwritten letter, then? You know I'm a curious gal. I'd definitely keep it around and eventually read it."

He hums. "My handwriting is terrible."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, what's done is done," he sighs wistfully, and makes a tsk-tsk noise with his tongue. "Too bad you only realized just now that I dedicated my restaurant to you."

I match his dramatic sigh with my own. "Things happen for a reason. I mean, we're here now." I shrug, watching as he leans back into the driver's seat. "Like how I missed my chance to see Taylor Swift live, and yet I don't regret it 'cause you showed up at the reunion and that's almost better than a Taylor Swift concert."