My Husband

"Cedric, it doesn't taste right," I said. I opened my eyes, and he was holding what looked like a pound cake. "It tastes bland." Cedric lowered his head. "I thought I did a good job," he whined with tears in his eyes. I stifled a laugh. "Ok... I think your orange cake is better. It's powerful... like, electric. It would sell. But if you have your heart set on perfecting that thing you've worked on, by all means go for it." Cedric sighed. "Mortimer, if you make something like some of the stuff we talked about you said you wanna do, then with mine it will balance out, like lemonade that has sugar in it. I think we could use some of my sponge-pound-angel-food cake." We looked at each other suddenly silent, gazing intensely into each other's eyes, and I knew what he meant and he knew what I meant by it too, without saying anything, and I knew that he knew and he knew that I knew. We looked away, and I went back to reading my book, and Cedric sat down and ate his thing. After a while of sitting contentedly in silence in front of him eating that, I said, "I liked your cooking, Cedric." He nodded and smiled.