As they sat down, Kiara realized how hard it would be to eat a sandwich without her hands. She kept looking at it, but eventually heard him laugh and get a knife, fork, and plate to cut it into small pieces for her. When he was done, he took a piece and brought it to her mouth. What the hell?
“You are not hand-feeding me.” She lowered her brows. He must have noticed how pathetic it was, so he dropped the fork and sat back. Her hands might be hurt, but she could still get the fork between her index and middle finger.
They ate a few bites in silence, and she felt the need to circle back to what he had said before.
“So, you’re adopted.” She noticed how he sucked in a breath before answering. Tough subject, clearly.
“Is there something else you want to tell me about that?” It couldn’t be just that. Him being adopted explained nothing, except the lack of family resemblance between them.