“I’m not wanting to change the layout, so you won’t have to worry about plumbing or electrical stuff. Cabinets, counters, and a backsplash probably.”
“That’s a pretty easy remodel.”
“And the floor.” I remember. “Lighting…”
“Still all easy.”
“So, you won’t kick me out of here for too long? I’ve got important brunches to host.”
Paul shrugs. “Nope. It’ll be a pretty quick turnaround. Start picking out your appliances and everything.”
“Okay, I’m on it.”
Paul nearly walks past me and then stops. Without warning, he suddenly collects me in a hug.
Taken aback, I wait for him to say something, but he holds me for a long time and then pats me on the back before he walks outside.
While I want to cry, I hold it in. I’m too happy, and I don’t want to lose that feeling.
After going through tons of bookmarked recipes, I text Alex about Sunday’s impending brunch and ask if he’d like to come over on Saturday afternoon to do some baking so that we can have some food prepared beforehand.
A sour-cherry chocolate-chunk muffin? And can we go over the recipe for the baked croque monsieur casserole?
He replies within seconds, saying that he will be at my house at four thirty-seven p.m. and will have a lemon with him.
Later that afternoon, Danny hugs me from behind when he finds me hovering over my iPad.
“What are you looking at now?” he asks sweetly.
“Oh God, it’s so stupid. It’s a ricotta cake topped with a layer of edible flowers encased in gelatin. Not like I could pull that off.”
“But maybe you could. You should try.” He massages my shoulders and then slides his hands under the front of my tank top. “A goal recipe.”
“I like the idea of a goal recipe,” I admit as he brushes my hair to the side and starts kissing my neck.
After he pushes his waist against me, he lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yes.”
He has to walk away, I know, so I nod and follow him to my front door.
And then he does this cute thing where he walks backward while looking at me. “And every night after that?”
“Of course.”
