“So good. And it totally reminds me of you.” I laughed. “Oh, come on, you’ve had pasta sauce a billion times since high school.” “And every time, it reminded me of you.” My heart beat a little faster. “Liar.” “That’s the truth, I swear,” he said. “There were always certain things that reminded me of you.” “Like what?” “Red hair, dimples, the smell of birthday cake. Weren’t there things that reminded you of me?” I thought about it while I took the spoon and tasted the sauce. “Baseball,” I told him, reaching for the salt. I added a little to the sauce and stirred again. “And for a while, sex.”
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