Chapter
Twenty-Two
OREN
After a quick call to get delivery sorted, we end up with a spread of takeout on the little table in my kitchen. The smell of soy sauce, garlic, and ginger make my appetite return in full force, and I practically dive in before I even remember the chopsticks.
“I—I don’t know how to use these properly,” I stammer, fumbling them as if they’re alien tools. I poke at a dumpling, and it rolls away across the plate. Keane chuckles and reaches over to show me a better grip.
“See? Like this,” he says, his hand brushing mine as he demonstrates.
I blush, too aware of the contact, and try again. Success! Kind of.
I scarf down a few bites before my eyes land on the tiny paper-wrapped fortune cookie at the edge of my plate. My face lights up.
“Oh, cookies!”
He shakes his head, mock-serious. “Not yet. You finish your broccoli first. I can’t allow cheating.”
I groan, but somehow it feels like a fun challenge. I pick at the florets, trying not to think about the way he’s watching me, the way his presence makes my stomach do somersaults.
“Does this count as my new snack choice exercise?”
“Is broccoli a new food for you?”
I set down my chopsticks and face him with aduhlook.
“Why would I choose to eat broccoli if no one’s here to make me?”
Once I finally swallow the last piece, he leans back, satisfied.
“Okay… fortune time.”
I tear it open and read aloud, eyes wide with excitement.
“‘A surprise is headed your way!’ Ooh, that’s… that’s about you, right?” I grin, nudging him playfully.
“Maybe.” A soft smile tugs at his lips.
After dinner, we curl up on the couch, cartoons playing low in the background, the familiar noise of them filling the room while I lean against Keane’s side. I don’t even remember drifting off, but when I blink awake, he’s nudging me gently.
“Bedtime,” he murmurs.
His voice is soft in a way that makes you want to obey without thinking twice.
I shuffle into my room and crawl under the covers, clutching my weighted blanket around me. He settles into the chair in the corner usually reserved for clean laundry, looking completely at home.
“Story tonight?” he asks, and my heart flips.
I hesitate, then grab a book from my nightstand, something totally bland and absolutely not spicy. I hand it over, mumbling, “This one.”
Keane lifts a brow as he takes it, his lips twitching as if he knows exactly what I’m doing. He flips through the pages, then glances at me over the top of the book.
“This doesn’t feel the same as your usual request.”
His tone is calm but pointed. Daddy voice. Lawyer voice. The kind of voice that pins me to the bed without moving an inch.
I shrink down under the blanket, my face hot.
