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“I want to. It won’t be anything impressive, but it’ll taste good.”
“You taste good.” I leaned in, stealing a kiss. When I pulled away, she let out a contented sigh.
“I could get used to that.” I grinned and she added, “now stop distracting me.”
“Yes, chef.” With a smile, I collected all the things Peyton asked for and hopped up onto a stool, watching as she cracked the eggs into a bowl and started beating them. “This was my go-to meal back in middle school. Quick, easy, and delicious. I used to experiment, adding whatever we had left in the refrigerator. But my favorite is and always will be ham, onion, cheese, and tomato. Chop these please.”
Peyton pushed the ingredients toward me, and I made quick work of chopping everything into small chunks before grating the cheese.
“Perfect.” She added everything to the bowl and mixed it all together, before heating a drizzle of oil in the pan. “You can make it into an omelet, but I was never very good at that, so I just scramble it. Tastes just as good.”
I tried to keep the frown off my face at the thought of her having to learn how to feed herself at such a young age. But when she glanced up, I realized I’d failed.
“Don’t look at me like that. Some kids have to go through worse than I did.”
My teeth ground together. “I hate that she didn’t care enough.”
Peyton gave a small half-shrug. “Do I wish things were different? Sure, I do. But I survived, Xander. I didn’t let it break me.”
No, she hadn’t. But something had broken in her when her mom killed herself. She’d told me as much.
She turned her back to me, focusing on the scrambled eggs. I slipped off the stool and went to her, sliding my hands around her waist and dropping my chin to her shoulder. “You’re so fucking strong, Peyton. I hope you know that.”
A shiver ran through her and her breath hitched.
“This is nice,” she whispered. “It feels like something a normal couple would do.”
I read between the lines. A normal couple—we weren’t one of those, but it was nice to pretend. I could imagine her, standing here in the morning in nothing but my shirt, swaying her hips to the radio while she made us breakfast.
Jesus. The thought was so clear, so real, it knocked the air from my lungs.
“Xander?” Peyton looked up at me.
“I’m fine.” I forced a smile, dropping a kiss to her nose. “Your eggs are burning,” I said, releasing her to put some space between us. “I’ll get some plates.”
I needed to catch my breath and calm myself the fuck down.
Peyton represented everything I’d ever avoided.
Commitment.
Opening my heart—my life—up to another person.
A future.
But watching her do something so simple as cooking us scrambled eggs, I realized I wanted it… with her. Screw society, screw the rules, and the consequences. Maybe I was supposed to save her that night, maybe it was fate’s way of giving me everything I never knew I needed.
“Almost done.” She glanced over at me and smiled. It lit up my entire dull apartment, a beacon of light in the dark. “What?” Her soft laughter drifted over to me, and I realized I was just standing there, watching her. In awe of her.
Without another thought, I closed the space between us. I hooked my arm around her waist, pulling her into my chest. “The eggs,” she protested.
“The eggs can wait,” my voice was low and rough. I reached around her and turned off the stovetop.
“Xander, I thought you were—”
I slid my thumb over her lips, silencing her. My mouth followed, licking and teasing. Peyton melted into me, folding her arms around my shoulders and kissing me back. Sliding my hands around her thighs, I picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around me.
“If you want to stop,” I wound one hand into her hair, gently pulling. “Now is a good time to tell me.”
