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I do as he says, watching him prep.

“I was reading the news on my phone earlier, before my life fell apart,” I say.

“Oh yeah? About what?”

“I got into the arts section. There was an article about the Escoffier Gallery, you know, that really famous one?”

There’s a slight smirk tugging at the corner of Fabien’s lips.

“Yes, I might have heard of it.”

“I would’ve thought you would, seeing as you move in that world.”

“Indeed, I do.”

“Well, apparently, it’s dramatically lost all of its business after some Japanese business executives called him out over a Juniper Wren forgery. It’s turned into a big scandal. That’s wild stuff.”

“That so?”

“Who knew he was running a scam?”

“Funny about that,” Fabien replies. “I always thought he was shady.”

And that’s all he says about it.

But there’s more to the story, I can tell. Fabien’s always had secrets, but he’s always found it hard to keep them from me.

* * *

I can say many things about Fabien Cote, but one thing that’s definitely true is that he can make a damn good grilled cheese. I’ve nearly forgotten how he can satisfy my hunger with merely some bread and some cheese and some heat.

Done, Fabien slides the plate over to me across the kitchen counter. It’s steaming hot, but I still can’t resist. I take a bite.

“This is incredible,” I remark, jabbing my finger at the food.

“Of course it is,” Fabien replies. “I made it.”

That makes me giggle.

“So, you still cook for yourself?” I ask. “The money hasn’t gone to your head? You don’t have a chef on standby?”

“Nope. I always cook. No one else. I’m not having anyone do that for me. I look after myself. I’m the only family I’ve got.”

My heart stings.

“What about Clement? Baptiste? They’re not family?”

“My brotherhood means everything to me,” Fabien replies. “And it was nice that Cromwell let me into your home when I needed it. But my family died the night the Masked Killer came to our door.”

“You didn’t like your time at our house?”

“I didn’t say that,” Fabien says. “I loved it then. It was the best time of my life.”

I remember that time. They were the best times for me. How we found our stolen precious moments in the dark, away from everyone else. How I felt truly seen by him. How we were two teenagers navigating a love we both knew we’d never experience again in our lives.

I’ve been too wrapped up in my memories to realize Fabien’s walked around the counter. He’s standing over me now. I’m looking up at him, gripping the plate. His hand reaches for mine and closes around my fingers.

“It was the best time of my life as well,” I whisper.