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‘You’ve noticed all the ready meals, then?’
He looked sheepish. ‘Sort of.’
‘When I think of mealtimes, it reminds me of my parents. All of us together, laughing over dinner. I tend to get it over with as quickly as possible these days.’
He pulled me into him, stroking my hair. ‘We can have nice meals together, sometimes,’ he said. ‘If you want.’
‘I think that might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.’
‘See, us Brits can be charming too.’
‘Just to be clear, American boy turned out to be not charming in the slightest.’
‘I knew it!’
He practically fist-bumped the air and I couldn’t help but smile.
When Jack went out to the kitchen to make me a ‘gourmet cheese toastie’, as he described it, I tipped my head back, closing my eyes, listening to the beat of the music. I could hear him out in the kitchen, banging about, the clang of cutlery knocking together
‘You are staying the night, right?’ he asked, reappearing with some salt and pepper and an impressive array of sauces.
I reached up and brushed the hair off his face. ‘Worried I’m going to do a runner?’
He laughed, crouching down and kissing me again.
‘If it was up to me, you’d never leave,’ he said, running his thumb across my cheek.
Which was good, because I didn’t plan on going anywhere.
