I made dinner—well, okay, I heated leftovers—but they were good because Woody is awesome in the kitchen. At least it seemed that René was impressed.
“Woody could open a restaurant if he wanted to,” he commented as he made his way through chicken fettuccine as we sat across from each other.
“He does many things well, the bastard. I get the benefit of his cooking without the weight gain.”
“I wish I could be like you. I have to work out like hell to not gain a pound, especially since I like to eat all my creations. I mean, how else am I to know if they’re good or not?”
I laughed. “Sure, we’ll work with that.”
He stared at me.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s great to see you smiling and happy around me. I thought I’d lost that.”
I sipped my iced tea. “Well, we’re still at the beginning of…whate
