We were on our way to dinner with some friends and I supposed that my husband had been tasked with picking up dessert, but nay, that was not the case.
Facts be known, upon embarking our mode of transportation he handed me the box and said:
"This isn't for tonight.
I got it for you and I to share."
At that moment I was delighted, but am now sorry to admit that the romance of the gesture didn't completely sink in until three days and six Berry-filled slices later.
It had been a surprise.
A treat meant just for the two of us, and with sick kiddos we could easily justify being so selfish.
So what we did, was cut two slices and sit at the kitchen table together after the breakfast rush.
And then two more slices on the upstairs porch while having a heart-to-heart. That piece took longer to eat than the first, and the scrumptiousness of a couple bites were unfortunately lost on my taste buds. That piece was the most precious though. The time accompanying it was very dear.
The last two pieces were cut somewhat unequal. What was left in the pan looked pretty tiny and I just wanted to savor a taste, so after the Buglets were tucked into bed we indulged, Beloved receiving the larger of the last two nibbles.
Three dates out of one pie! How neat is that?
I never knew a boxed pie could be so romantic.