Page 124 of Last First Kiss

An hour ago, Jordan didn’t think twice while shopping for ingredients. About whether allowing Jamie to taste his cooking would change that fact.

He just did it.

The only thing Jordan cares about is Jamie’s health. Even if this is the worst dish Jamie’s ever tasted, Jordan wants him to be okay. To feel a little better.

Jamie coughs. “I didn’t even know we—Ihad a cutting board.”

“Parting gift from Denz?”

“My money’s on Braylon.”

While the water boils, Jordan starts on the pumpkin and carrots. He’s halfway through a yellow yam when Jamie says, “Is that soup?”

Jordan smiles fondly.

“Growing up, there was this Jamaican grandma who lived across the hall. A real spitfire. She’d smile at you in the elevator, then cuss you out for slamming doors.” He laughs. “She was a trained opera singer too. Loved the 1977Carmencast recording. It played all day long while her cooking made the entire apartment floor smell delicious.”

He dumps everything into the pot, adding more water before switching over to peeling ginger.

“One day, I knocked on her door and asked what she was making.”

“Did she yell at you?”

Jordan grins. “Almost. She invited me in for a bowl of this soup. Said she saw me alone a lot, but that no one’s really lonely when you have great food.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is.”

“Did she teach you the recipe?”

Jordan works methodically. The memories dance beside him. “Once a week, she’d teach me everything she knew. All her childhood favorites.”

Jamie rests his head on his knuckles. “Is she still around?”

Melancholy grabs Jordan’s throat. “No. She died before I left for UCLA. But she came to my high school graduation. Yelled at me for making her sit in the heat.”

They both laugh.

Thunder rumbles outside. Raindrops drum on Jamie’s balcony.

“How’d you get sick?” Jordan asks as he stirs in the soup mix.

“Went to another one of Mikah’s games. Probably shouldn’t have joined the dogpile when they won again.” Jamie’s nose wrinkles. “Think I caught it from one of his teammates.”

“Caught what?”

“Pretty sure it’s that summer flu.”

Jordan winces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve watchedNotting Hilllike eight times.”

“Is that supposed to be a good thing?”

Jamie stretches, then flinches like his muscles do not approve of such activities. “You’ve obviously never fallen under the spell of a young, charismatic Hugh Grant as travel bookshop owner Will Thacker.”

“Can’t say I have.”