Page 101 of Healing Eleanor

“Hey,” I greet, buckling myself and settling my purse in my lap.

“Good morning.” Nik’s face melts into a soft smile. “Ready?”

I nod, though my stomach flips like it does when I step onstage.

If he notices, he doesn’t say a word. His smile just deepens, like he understands without needing to tease me about it. I like that. It’s his way of letting me breathe without forcing me to admit the obvious.

When we pull up to his apartment, my eyes involuntarily widen. It’s a brownstone with stairs that sweep up to a door that curves gracefully at the top, framed by two columns with delicate carvings. Large trees line the sidewalk, casting shadows across the tan brick.

It’s beautiful. Too beautiful. Nicer than anything I can ever imagine for myself. A knot forms in my stomach as my mind whispers the old refrain: I don’t belong here.

“Coming?” Nik asks, already out of the car, while I stay frozen, staring at something I can never afford.

I shake off the stupor and force myself to move. “Sorry.”

The inside of his place smells fresh with a hint of coffee lingering in the air. Bookshelves line one wall, filled but neat. A simple couch sits against the opposite wall, a wooden coffee table in the middle, and to the right, stairs that wind up to what I guess is his bedroom. A record player with a small stack of vinyls leaning against it rests beside the couch.

It feels like a home. Not staged, not cluttered. Just… lived in. Everything has a purpose, nothing extra.

Before I can soak it in, a blur of black and tan fur comes barreling toward me.

I squeal and instantly crouch down as the tiny yorkie yips and paws at my shoes. “Oh my gosh, and who are you?” I coo, my voice a full octave higher.

Nik hangs his keys on a hook and turns, half-smiling. “Louie, knock it off.” Then to me he says, “Sorry. He gets excited with visitors.”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” I scratch behind Louie’s ears, grinning like an idiot. “He is the cutest.”

Nik scoffs but his smile betrays him. “He’s cute now. Wait until he tears up your favorite shoes.”

I give Louie one last rub and stand, still smiling. “I never would’ve pegged you as a dog person.”

He smirks, tugging open a barn door that slides along sleek black rails. “I’m definitely not a cat person. And Louie was a stray when I found him. I couldn’t just leave him out in the snow.” He tilts his head toward the open doorway. “Come on.”

I follow him inside and my jaw drops.

The kitchen looks like it’s been modeled from a cooking show, only scaled down. Copper pots and pans glimmer from a rack above the sink, and brown-and-gray marble counters shine under the warm light. Every utensil imaginable stands gathered in a white ceramic vase, while potted herbs and small succulents fill the remaining spaces.

It’s the most beautiful kitchen I’ve ever seen.

“I take it you like to cook?” I blurt, my thoughts slipping out before I can stop them. I can’t see past the way everything gleams in this kitchen.

Nik rounds the counter, resting his palms flat against the cool marble. “Love it, actually. And baking. It’s my favorite way to spend my down time.”

I blink, finally dragging my gaze from the copper pots to his face. “You bake?”

“Yup.” He bends to rummage in the cabinets, clinking around until he returns with a wooden bowl.

I frown. “Are you… cooking now?”

His grin curves slowly, deliberate. “We are, yes.”

We?

My heart and stomach momentarily trade places. Not only am I hopeless in the kitchen, but he knows about… everything. The way food and I have always been at war. My pulse thunders in my ears.

He must notice because he sets the bowl down and walks around the counter to me. His hands rest lightly on my shoulders, warm and steady, guiding my eyes to his.

“I know food is hard for you,” he says softly. His voice drops low, like a secret just for me. “I don’t want to push you. I just thought… Maybe if you had a hand in making it, it might help. Give you a little peace of mind. But if it’s too much, we can stop. No pressure.”