“I wasn’t planning on a guest,” he reminds me in an irritated tone.
“That’s fine, I can just get delivery or something,” I offer, pulling out my phone.
“Good luck with that, Princess, you’re not in the city anymore. It’s fine, I’ll share. It’s big.”
“That’s whathesaid,” I reply automatically. John doesn’t even look my way.
He sets the food down on a small tray by the grill and reaches for the seasoning as he starts prepping the potatoes first. He seasons them, adds butter, and wraps them in foil before setting them on the hot grill. Then he works to season the steak, giving the potatoes some time before he finally adds the meat.
“Sooo…” I say, because silence has never once been my strength. “Is this the part where you pretend I don’t exist again?”
He doesn’t look up. “You’re doing a lot of talking for someone who just invited themself into my house.”
“You let me in. And it’sourhouse.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“You always have a choice, John. Just like you had the choice to marry me, and you did. You said yes!” I remind him. “That was one of the best days of my life.”
“Mm,” John hums to himself, not confirming or denying it was the best day of his life too, so I’m going to choose to think he agrees with my statement.
“Do you always cook out here?” I ask curiously, thinking about all the meals he’s got to make if he can’t get delivery and the kitchen is… well, a mess, to put it nicely.
“Yep, I grill every meal.”
“Even breakfast?” I ask.
“Don’t eat breakfast. Just coffee,” he answers matter-of-factly.
“I’m already learning so much about you, Hubby.” I smile. “What’s your coffee order? Wait, don’t tell me. It’s black, isn’t it? You don’t like frills.” He grunts, and I’m relieved that, even after such a short reunion, I’m still able to decipher his grunts and mumblings enough to know that means I’m correct. I smile, pleased with myself.
“Don’t call me that,” he groans instead of confirming I’m right.
“Call you what?” I ask innocently.
“You know what.”
I sure do, but I wanted to hear him say the word. So I play dumb and ask, “John?”
He gives me an unamused look, obviously knowing I’m messing with him. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”
Once again, it makes me smile. “Of course I am. You’re feeding me and letting me stay with you in your bed. Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’ve been waiting for this for two months. Dreaming of this very moment.”
He scoffs. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Nope. If I did, we wouldn’t be married.”
He puts the spatula down and rakes a hand over his face. “Fucking hell. Chad, why do you want to be with me so badly? If you’re into guys, wouldn’t you prefer to find someone in the city? Someone with money like you who can fit into your life. Someone who is actually looking to be in a relationship and will give you all the attention you so clearly desire. I can’t do that.”
I roll my eyes, still smiling. “Because, John,” I start, not needing to think about my response, “you make me feel safe, and valued, and important. I don’t care about money. You treat me as an equal, and you do so many little things for me that I don’t even think you realize you do. I know right now you don’t want to let me in, but your walls don’t deter me. I just know in myheart, we can be something special, and I don’t want to give up on us before we even get started.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just focuses on the grill before pulling the steak off and setting it on a clean plate, giving the potatoes a few more minutes. As soon as he adds them to the plate and turns off the grill, he takes a knife and cuts the steak in half, nodding toward it. “This done enough for you?”
It’s the perfect amount of pink. “Yup,” I answer, hoping that if I don’t say anything else, he’ll respond to what I said a few minutes ago, but he just plates our food… and walks away.
I eagerly follow him to the patio table and look at him expectantly.
“Sit,” he commands, and I pull out the chair next to him and drop in, still just looking at him. “Do you need me to instruct your every move? Eat.”
