Page 98 of Carver’s Craving

I joined Styx in the kitchen. Well, I arrived to drop the bags, and he brushed past me, heading out to the SUV. I dropped the bags and followed him.

“Jesus, Carver, how much TP did you buy?”

“No such thing as too much. I intend to die with a cupboard full of the stuff.” I grinned.

For just a moment, Styx stilled.

“Crap, I’m sorry.” Way to make a joke after Frank’s death.

He waved me off. “Crap indeed. Hurry up. Dinner’s waiting.”

“I smelled something delicious.” Of course, everything he made was amazing.

“Moussaka.”

“Oh my God.” I licked my lips as I pulled the last of the bags out of the back of the SUV and shut the door. Styx was already hustling inside with, admittedly, enough toilet paper to last until spring. I’d tried to calculate. Should be simple—double what I used. Still, better to be prepared. My comment about dying with toilet paper in the cupboard might’ve been a poorly timed joke, but there’d been a kernel of truth.

I shut the front door behind me.

Poppin flew off the couch and arrived before me. She plopped onto her butt and gazed at me expectantly.

Styx shook the baby carrot container.

She bolted to the kitchen, while Walter sat up and blinked sleepily.

I put the bags in the kitchen, grabbed a couple of carrots, and headed back to my baby boy. “Hey, did you have a good day?” I petted him before putting the carrots on the couch in front of him.

As expected, he dug in.

“They’ve eaten dinner and had their meds.” Styx grinned. “They just need to go out later.”

I headed toward him. “Have I told you that I love you?” When I was close enough, he stepped into my space and gave me a peck on the lips.

“Sure. But I’ll never tire of hearing that. Have your shower and let’s get you fed. You look exhausted.”

“That would be because I am. Oh, remind me to tell you about Davey when I’m out of the shower.” I squeezed his forearm before heading to the bathroom.

“Davey?”

“Long story.” I threw that over my shoulder.

All through my quick shower, my saliva glands worked overtime at the thought of moussaka. Styx had sat me down a few days ago and insisted I name my hundred favorite foods.

A hundred!

Then he told me to think of more to add as time went on and not to worry about stuff like difficulty to cook and shit like that. The next day he’d handed me a grocery list. I should’ve felt guilty, but he made it clear his happy place was cooking. I couldn’t relate, but I could compliment, praise, and express gratitude.

When I was as dry as I was going to get, I put on my pajamas and headed back to the kitchen.

He’d set the dining room table with candles.

I blinked. “I have candles?”

“Your emergency stash. Yeah. You’re going to have to restock.” He grinned. “Our first night together.”

“Uh—”

“Well, our first date was when we went to Ryan’s and Simeon’s as a couple. This is our first official solo date.”