Dermot's pov
We are quietly, the sound of our forks hitting our plates was the only sound heard. It wasn't an awkward silence but it means we understood each other.
It was always like that between us, lost in thoughts but we weren't ignoring each other. We acknowledge our presence but we are just not talking something about this particular silence from him felt off.
I don't know what made him look so tense but he appeared somewhat angry when he came downstairs, he tried to force a smile but I know he was angry under it.
I didn't want to ask him, fearing that I might not like the answer but at the same time, I was curious as to the call he made earlier. Maybe that's what got him so mad.
I was tempted to start a conversation but I don't know what to talk about right now, especially with his mood.
"Is it any good?" I asked,
He nodded, taking a forkful of the salmon. "Yes, it tastes good." He said,
