Page 76 of Sparks Fly

As soon as we hung up, I ordered everything I needed to make spicy pho and had it delivered to my apartment.

By four thirty, my phone buzzed, pulling me away from my work.

Addison: Lord help me. I’m having such a bad day.

I replied from beside the welding table.

Me: Hang in there. I’m making you something spicy and soul-healing tonight.

The conversation went quiet again, but I knew she was busy.

At five oh three, my phone buzzed once more.

Addison: I’ll be at your house by 7:30. Promise. Coming straight from work. You have to take me as I am or not at all lol.

The tension beneath my ribs eased.

Me: Come as you are, baby. I’ll leave out soft clothes. You can shower while I finish cooking. Then couch, Buffy, and a foot rub.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Addison: You’re a goddess, and I’m absolutely smitten with you.

My chest felt so full it almost hurt. I hearted the message and set my phone facedown on the workbench.

The rest of the afternoon passed easier. I finished the last welds, cleaned my station, and helped Benji load a railing for delivery before we finally locked up.

By the time I got home, the grocery bags were waiting outside my door.

Cooking had always been the easy part. Omma taught me how to make pho when I was young, with me standing on a stool and my hair tied back with whatever elastic I could find.

Don’t rush the broth, she used to say while my mom chopped herbs beside us and hummed under her breath.

Food was how we loved.

How we said sit down.

How we said you’re safe.

Addison said she was recently obsessed with Pho. So I knew it was what I wanted to make for her. I wanted her to exhale the second she walked in.

My shower was quick and hot, then I pulled on soft sweats and a cropped tank without thinking, before tying on my apron and getting to work.

Cooking was instinct for me. Spices bloomed in the pot. Ginger and garlic followed. The broth simmered low while herbs waited in bright bowls beside the stove. The whole apartment filled slowly with warmth.

At seven ten, my phone lit up.

Addison: On my way.

A few minutes before she was due to arrive, I started the shower and set clean clothes on the bathroom counter.

At seven twenty-eight, footsteps sounded on the stairs. I opened the door to find Addison standing there, beautiful and exhausted, her shoulders sagging beneath her wrinkled blazer.

“Hi, beautiful.” I pulled her into a quick kiss and handed her a glass of wine. “Drink this. The shower’s running, soft clothes are waiting, and dinner is almost ready.”

She blinked at me like her tired brain needed a second to process it before melting into my arms. “You’re the best,” she whispered.

“Go.” I kissed her temple. “I’ve got you.”