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She nods. “Every single one.”
We’re frozen in a heated gaze, and while I’m happy my words meant as much to her as hers meant to me, it somewhat saddens me too because when I moved away, those were all she had left of me. No telling where we’d be right now if I hadn’t. I wouldn’t have met Victoria or gone to prison, but then Maddie and Liam wouldn’t be in my life either. She notices the somber mood and swiftly changes the subject.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, walking toward the doorway.
“I’m starving. I’ll be happy to make something,” I offer as I follow her to the kitchen.
“No, no, no, you’remyguest of honor and have cooked for me several times already. It’s my turn.”
I take a seat at the marble island. “Okay, fine.”
It’s hard not to think about the last time I was here when we both lost control. Just imagining her soft moans in my ear as she rode her release has my dick getting hard, but I try to think about something else. We cannot cross the line right now, regardless if she’s single and she’s all I think about.
She opens the fridge and glances inside. “Hmm.”
I chuckle at her uncertainty. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”
She pulls out cheese slices and butter, then sets them on the counter. “How about a grilled cheese sandwich?” she asks. “It’s been a while, but I think I can make one.”
“I just hope you’re a better cook than Everleigh,” I tease. “Because the look on your face has me worried.”
She chuckles. “My cooking isn’t as bad as my painting skills.”
“Thank God for that,” I mock, and she rolls her eyes.
“Joke’s on you, though,” she says, grabbing a skillet. “Because you’ll eat it even if it sucks. I know how nice you are.” She turns on the burner, and I watch as Gemma scoops a gigantic spoonful of butter and slaps in down on the skillet.
I cringe because she’s already screwing this up. “Let me help.”
She turns and points the spatula at me. “Not happening. Want a drink while you wait?”
The butter sizzles, and I’m convinced it’s burning. “Sure.” I might need one to swallow down her food.
She quickly reaches inside the fridge, then hands me a Whiteclaw.
“What in the hell is this?” I look at the can, and my face scrunches.
“That’s all I have!”
I laugh and crack it open. “Well, it’s no beer, but I guess it’ll do.” I take a sip and nearly spit it out.
“Don’t you dare waste a drop of that. It’s basic bitch gold.” She opens a loaf of bread and puts it in the skillet, then turns to me. “Will you tell me what you did in Vegas when you went?”
I bite the corner of my lip, thrown off by her question. “Are you sure you want all the details?”
She nods. “Yes. Now that Victoria is here, I wanna know everything.”
I swallow, then blow out a shaky breath before telling her about Eric and what Victoria did to his girlfriend, Amara. It’s impossible for me to leave out the details because Gemma needs to understand how dangerous Victoria really is. Her mouth falls open, and she gasps, pressing her hand to her chest.
“No way...” Her eyes widen in shock.
“So, I went to Vegas to testify in a deposition as a character witness for the case against Amara to discuss what I saw and heard when I worked for Victoria. The lawyer who represented me before went too,” I explain. “Afterwards, I flew with Serena to Sacramento and visited Liam and Maddie until the next day.”
“Do you think it actually did any good?” she questions, but before I can respond, I smell something burning. As if she reads my mind, she turns around, and the skillet is smoking. The fire alarms start beeping, so I quickly open the front door and try to fan some of it out. Gemma opens a window, then throws the burnt bread in the trash. “Whoopsies. That was only a warmup round,” she claims. As if she’s well practiced, she grabs the broom, and the beeping finally stops.
I walk around the island, not allowing her to embarrass herself anymore as she grabs the loaf for more bread.
“I’ll help,” I say, and this time, she willingly hands me the spatula. “We’ll do it together.”
