He lifted his glass and held it out toward her. Elizabeth responded in kind and was rewarded by the faint chime of touching glass. Jackson smiled and took a small sip of the wine before returning the glass to the table. Elizabeth sipped at her own and then paused, swallowing slowly so that the wine would make its way slowly down her throat. It was good! She had never been particularly fond of wine, usually drinking it only on special occasions at meals, or when it was the only form of less-potent alcohol available at a party. Whatever else Jackson might be, he knew how to pick out a good wine.
Elizabeth placed her own glass back on the table and found herself staring back at him. It took a moment to realize it. When she did, she was just beginning to blush again when her stomach reminded her once more, a bit more loudly than she would have liked, that it wanted something besides empty liquid calories. With hesitation, she met Jackson’s eyes. If he had noticed the audible sign of her stomach’s demands, he made no indication of it.
“Want to get something to eat?” he suggested
He sounded completely casual, as though the timing of his suggestion was mere coincidence. Elizabeth chose to believe that it was.
She nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Maybe a little something.”
She felt as if she could tackle a five-course meal on her own. That was ridiculous, she told herself. It had not been that long since she had eaten last. She also recognized it for what it was: an attempt by her subconscious to use food as a means to deal with the events of the day—events that she had managed to mostly forget for a short while. She cautioned herself to remain careful and aware while she filled her plate at the buffet counters. If she was not, she knew that she would eat mindlessly, trying to fill the emotional void with food. It was not a struggle that she wanted to face right now.
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