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Chapter Five
Dylan
Dinner is good, relaxed and fun, despite Tessa occasionally interrupting our conversation to throw out another suggestion for how I came to make my money and own this place. It’s like she’s mentally working her way through some sort of checklist, ticking them off with every question she asks me.
“Did you win the lottery?” she now asks, as I lower the fork to my plate.
We’re still sitting at my kitchen island, side by side, as we eat the shrimp pasta I managed not to fuck up, despite being distracted by the fact that Tessa was here, in my home, sitting in my kitchen like she belongs here. Like this is an actual real thing happening between us.
“No,” I say with a laugh. “Want some more?” I add, gesturing to her empty plate.
She lets out a long exhale, pushing her plate away as she finishes off her wine. I automatically top up her glass from the second bottle I’ve opened. “No, I’m stuffed. That was delicious though, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How’d you learn to cook?” she now asks, and I immediately let out a laugh.
“Wow, I have seriously managed to knock you on your ass tonight, haven’t I?”
Tessa shakes her head, hitting me with a hard stare as she throws her hands up. “Seriously, Dylan,” she starts. “When we first hooked up you told me nothing. You were sketchy about where you lived, what you did for a living and you definitely didn’t volunteer anything about yourself or whatever. And now here I am, in your awesome apartment, that you own, don’t rent, being wined and dined by you. Why did you hide all of this?”
I raise a brow at her. “Would it have made a difference?” I ask, even though at the time, that’s not something I would have even cared about. I didn’t care about impressing Tessa with what I had or what I owned, because as shitty as it sounds, I just wanted to get her naked.
Tessa blushes a little and I can tell what her answer is even before she says it. “Well…” she starts.
Chuckling, I let her off by admitting, “It’s okay, I get it. I guess at the time, I wasn’t interested in revealing too much because I wasn’t looking for anything more than just sex. What would’ve been the point of telling you about myself when all we were doing was…well, you know, fucking.”
As shitty as that sounds, it’s the truth and one thing I’ve always been is honest. Tessa knew from the second we started hooking up that casual, no strings attached sex was all I was after. I’d thought that’s all she wanted too because she certainly hadn’t suggested otherwise, and for a while, things had seemed good. Then she’d changed her mind and honestly, I was okay with that, even if she did spin me some bullshit about leaving town instead of just telling me. What shocked me most though was that since things had ended between us, I’d apparently changed my mind too.
Me?
How the fuck did that happen?
And more to the point, why the fuck had it happened?
“And now?” she questions, bringing me back to the present.
“And now,” I say, grabbing her plate as I stand and move around the island into the kitchen. I rinse them off before loading them into the dishwasher. I then move to the fridge, pulling out the dessert and leaving it to sit on the counter in front of us. “Now it seems I’m looking for more too,” I finish, glancing up at her.
It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud and it feels weird and a little scary to be honest.
Tessa sits with her mouth open in a tiny O again as her eyes flick to the chocolate mousse before moving back to my face. “Please don’t tell me you made that too?” she asks, apparently ignoring my recent admission.
I burst out laughing, moving around to sit down beside her again. “No, my sister did,” I say, taking a sip of wine. “She’s a chef, that’s how I know how to cook.”
“You have a sister?” she asks.
“I do,” I reply with a nod. “Actually, you might know her, she’s four and a half years older than me, so maybe…” I trail off as Tessa narrows her eyes at me again. “What, is that awkward, you knowing my sister and fucking me?”
Tessa holds up a hand. “First up, we aren’t fucking. Not any—”
“Not yet,” I add with a grin.
She rolls her eyes now. “Whatever, and secondly, what’s your sister’s name?”
“Hannah,” I say. “Hannah Murphy.”
“Oh. My. God.,” she says, slapping a hand over her face. “Fuck.”
