Read Macarons at Midnight for Free Online Page B

better nod before he looked like the biggest rube to ever live in a city that was far too sophisticated for him. “Sure. Anise is great.” He hoped.
    Henry handed him a black biscuit. It was light and smooth and glossy, and it looked like there was some sort of thick black cream on the inside. He’d watched Henry dump loads of colored gel into the other batters, though. The color didn’t help him much. He sniffed it curiously.
    “Your first macaron?”
    Tristan nodded. “That easy to tell? They’re not exactly a staple of the small-town Yorkshire diet. At least, I don’t think they are. I’ve not seen them before.”
    “Just try it.” Henry watched him expectantly, obviously amused at Tristan’s reluctance. “I think you’ll like it.”
    Tristan took a bite of the biscuit. It was chewy and squidgy after he bit through the crunchy shell, and it tasted of… licorice? Was that what anise meant? He supposed posh people who ordered special-made biscuits for parties would have special words for things too. He liked it. It was different, but tasty. Nice. He took a second bite, and now that he knew what to expect, found himself enjoying the unusual texture even more. He liked the slight crust and the way the macaron disappeared in his mouth like some sort of lovely licoricey cloud.
    “It’s good,” he mumbled around his third and final mouthful. “I don’t always like licorice, but I like this.” He wished he could have another, but he wouldn’t ask. That would be very rude.
    “Maybe if you stick around for a little while, you can try the other flavors.” Henry pointed at the pink ones. “These will be blackberry cassis, the turquoise one’s passion fruit, the green is classic pistachio. I don’t usually make them so bright. Birthday girl’s request.”
    Tristan didn’t want to admit he didn’t have a bleeding clue what cassis was, and the thought of a pistachio biscuit was kind of weird, but he smiled and nodded. At least the other flavors sounded familiar. They would make a pretty display when Henry finished them, if nothing else.
    “I have to let the trays sit and cure for a bit. But I can offer you a chocolate-chip muffin, or I have some rosemary croissants if you’re in the mood for something savory.”
    “You don’t have to keep feeding me.” Tristan chuckled.
    “Well.” Henry smiled. “I don’t want you to leave. I’ve decided if I keep giving you treats, you’ll stick around.”
    “I think I’ll stick around anyway. I like it in here.”
    “I’m glad. But if you don’t mind, I’ll split a croissant with you. I didn’t have dinner, and I’m starving.”
    “Oh, that’s awful. Do you want me to get you something? There has to be a shop open somewhere near here.”
    “Nah.” Henry winked at him. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost again.”
    “True.” He knew he was being made fun of, but he really didn’t want to leave on the off chance Henry’s perfect bakery and perfect smile and perfect voice were really just figments of his sad imagination, and they’d disappear on a poof of smoke the moment he walked through the door to the outside.
    Henry bustled around for a few minutes, slicing up two rosemary croissants and slathering them with soft cream cheese. He handed half to Tristan and took a big bite out of the other half. Tristan bit a little more gingerly, but just like the macaron, Henry’s croissants were tender, flavorful, and perfect. Tristan had to hold himself back from shoving the whole thing in his mouth.
    “I make that cream cheese myself,” Henry said.
    “Really?”
    Henry laughed. “No. I was just kidding. I think I am going cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs from lack of sleep, though.” He kept chuckling as he walked to his refrigerator and gathered an armful of ingredients.
    “Here we are,” Henry said as he pulled out a big mixer. “I’m going to make the blackberry cassis filling next.”
    “Is this a bad time to admit I don’t know what cassis is?” He