He takes a second, then looks up at me again. “I really know how to bring a mood down, don’t I?”
Rolling forward close enough that I can touch him, I take his hand and press my lips to his palm. It’s not really a kiss, but I linger that way until I see his shoulders relax and his mouth soften.
When the moment settles, I say, “Teach me how to make chicken and dumplings.”
He looks startled, then shakes his head slowly. “No.”
Of all the things I expect him to say,noisn’t one of them. My cheeks heat. “I know I suck at cooking, but?—”
“Leo.” He dislodges my grip on him and climbs to his knees, cupping his hands around my face. Pulling me gently, he takes my mouth in a soft, tender, heart-wrenching kiss. “I will teach you anything but chicken and dumplings.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not ready to give up the one reason you might want to keep me around.” His voice is painfully honest.
“North, you can’t be serious.”
He pulls back, but he doesn’t let me go. “Anything but that. Take your pick. Okay?”
I hesitate for a long moment, then eventually realize this isn’t a battle he wants to lose, and it’s also one that maybe I don’t want him to lose either. Once he gets to know me, maybe he’ll need a reason too.
“Teach me the one thing that always makes you feel good,” I murmur.
His mouth stretches into a grin, and then he takes me in one more slow kiss.
The room is thick with the smell of cooked bacon, chicken broth, and the distinct scent of canned white beans. The bowl in my lap is hot, but my thighs are shielded by a large plate holding an oversized piece of toasted baguette. I stare at the flecks of Parmesan slowly melting on the top.
I did this, I think to myself. I had some help. North guided me every step of the way, but it’s the first time I made something worth eating.
I think.
“Be honest,” I tell North as he leans against me. “How is it?”
North stirs his cheese in, then takes a bite and sighs, his head falling back against his headboard with a happy smile as his eyelids flutter shut. “Amazing.”
“Promise me you’re not lying.”
He rolls his head toward me and opens his eyes. “This recipe is pretty hard to fuck up, though the first time I made it, I forgot to crisp the bacon. I boiled the pieces in the broth, and the texture made me want to hurl the whole pot against the wall, so you have me beat by that.” When I give him another disbelieving look, he sighs, leans over, and pulls me into a kiss. “It tastes like home, Leo. I love it. Thank you.”
It’s hard to believe him. I have zero instinct for pairing flavors and no ability to eyeball portions of anything. I’m still reeling over the mess I made of those noodles he was brave enough to choke down.
But maybe I didn’t fuck this up. Maybe I did something right for once.
“Taste it,” he says when it’s obvious I’m not going to relent. “See for yourself.”
I take a big spoonful, and yeah. He’s right. It is good. The bacon is rich, the carrots have just the slightest bite to them, and the beans are so soft they practically melt.
It’s the perfect sort of comfort food to accompany the storm that just rolled in.
The lights have been flickering for a while, so before we hopped into bed, North turned on his little battery-operated lantern and turned off all the switches so the breakers wouldn’t flip if we lost power.
It’s cozy like this, tucked against him, dinner in our laps and the long evening stretching out ahead of us.
I know this isn’t going to last forever. He’s going to go back to work, and I’m going to heal up and eventually need to make a decision about what to do with my house. But for now, I can pretend like I have the ability to pause time and this can be our eternity.
“I have to swing by the station tomorrow and talk to Camilo about my shifts,” North says as he scrapes his bread through the bowl. “Also, I’m probably going to have to spend some time with my mom and sisters.” He sounds tense.
“Are you worried they won’t like me?”
