Her laugh filtered through the apartment. “Maybe!”
I’d gone back to my apartment to clean up and change into a new pair of briefs. This time, I’d opted for gray sweatpants over jeans.
I wiped my palms on my sweatpants as I paced around the kitchen. I’d had a number of high-stakes moments in the kitchen during my career, and yet…cooking one of Eliza’s favorite dishes for her quickly went to the top of the list. I wanted it to be perfect.
Worry and nerves crept into my mind over what it meant that I wanted her to enjoy this meal. We’d agreed to be casual—I fully knew that—and yet I also knew that it’d be damn near impossible to forget about Eliza when I left. I’d need to, though. It’s what was best for both of us.
In an attempt to distract my mind, I put away the seasonings and cleaned up the kitchen once the gnocchi was cooking in the pan.
By the time a knock sounded, there were about fifteen minutes left until the food was ready.
“Come in!” I called over my shoulder.
Eliza entered the apartment, immediately looking around. Her dark hair was still wet at the ends. She was wearing a different pair of pajama shorts with an oversize crew neck that slipped off her shoulder, exposing her tan skin.
“Huh,” she said, looking surprised.
“What?” I asked amused.
“Nothing. It’s just that your place is…actually decorated. It looks really nice.”
I barked a laugh. “Thank you?”
She grinned at me. “You’re just missing some plants.”
I had photos with my friends from culinary school displayed, along with trinkets from the places I’d visited, a record player with my favorite albums, and recent cards from friends and family. I was certainly more settled than I’d been a few weeks ago.
“I’ve seen some apartments where it’s almost like no one lives there. No photos. No personality. A little scary, even.”
My jaw ticked, and I tried not to let my mind wander aboutwhyshe’d been in these apartments or with who.
“And I expected it to still feel like Lily’s apartment in here,” she continued. “But it doesn’t.” She tilted her head to the side, taking another look around before joining me in the kitchen. “I think that’s good. Her new house feels like hers, and this feels like…yours.”
I imagined that kind of change was tough considering how close Lily and Eliza were. Even though they were still close, they weren’tacross the hall from each otherclose. I also remembered what Cooper had said during my night out with him, Gabe, and Wes.
“Are you doing okay with Lily moving out?” I asked, a little unsure if it was a topic I should broach. Our dynamic was hard to read. We talked, and sometimes it got more serious than others, but then we also slept together. We were…friends? But I didn’t like how that word felt.
“Yeah, of course I am.” Eliza didn’t miss a beat in her response. “What can I help with?”
Maybe we werefriendlybut not exactly friends.
“Here, could you keep stirring the sauce?” I passed her the wooden spoon. “And I’ll chop up the basil and grab some bowls.”
“Yes, chef,” Eliza responded in her sultry voice. She grinned at me like she knew damn well what she was doing.
I grabbed a knife and the already plucked fresh basil leaves. I stacked and rolled the leaves before cutting them into thin slices.
“Have you always enjoyed cooking?” Eliza asked. “Or was culinary school something you decided later?”
It’d been a while since someone had asked me that. During my interview with Wes, I’d kept it to my professional experience at the various restaurants I worked at, but that wasn’t where my love for cooking and food started.
“Go ahead and throw the gnocchi into the pan and give it another stir,” I said before answering her question. “And it started as a chore,” I admitted with a chuckle. “Just a way I could help my mom out, so she didn’t have to do it all after the divorce. I was around thirteen at the time, I think. I wasn’t making anything crazy. Mac and cheese from a box. Heating up frozen pizza. Maybe sometimes I’d get crazy and make a grilled ham and cheese. Justsomething. Everything changed when I stumbled upon cooking videos on the internet. Just random people on YouTube posting their recipes and tips. It snowballed from there. It went from a chore to more of an experiment. Seeing what flavors worked together. How to make the food even better. How to recreate some of my favorite meals from restaurants for cheaper—and better.”
I grabbed two bowls, and Eliza swiftly took them from me. She turned off the burner and scooped a serving into both bowls.
“Does it still feel that exciting to you? I mean, you do so much cooking for work. Do you still enjoy cooking just for you?”
I handed Eliza a fork and napkin before we walked over with our food to sit on the couch. It was just me, so I hadn’t botheredwith a kitchen table. I either ate at the couch or on a stool by the counter. Since I only had one stool, I figured the couch would be better for us.
