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But there’s nothing formal about his attire or the way he’s spread a bunch of papers over the surface of a coffee table that’s easily several centuries old.
And I love everything about it. Love the loose-fit jeans he wears. Love the untucked button-down shirt that’s slightly wrinkled. Love his rumpled dark hair. Everything about him is so…relaxed. After today, it’s exactly what I need. A reminder that all this strict tradition and protocol isn’t my life anymore.Tristanis.
“How are you, darling?” He stands and pulls my body against his, tipping my head back and treating me to a tender kiss that melts me from the inside out.
“Mentally and physically drained,” I admit.
Because Icanadmit these things around him. He loves me. Loves the good, bad, and ugly parts of me.
Except he doesn’t knowallthe parts of me. Not like he should.
“I’m sorry I didn’t stay. It looked like—”
“Don’t apologize. Not to sound rude, but I’m glad you left. It gave me a chance to spend time with Anderson. Then meet with my father.”
He straightens, concerned eyes raking over me. “And how did that go?”
“It—”
“Actually, hold that thought.” He touches his lips to my forehead. “Go put on some pajamas. When you’re comfortable, come to the kitchen and I’ll feed you. I made you dinner.”
“You cooked?”
He nods. “Chicken soup with salad and fresh bread, in case that earns me any points.” His expression grows serene. “Like we had on our first date.”
“Not so sure I’d call you picking me up for what was supposed to be an incredible dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant, only for you to learn I had the flu, a first date.”
“That may be true…” He pushes a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “But itwasour first meal together, despite the fact your nose was red and your eyes were puffy.”
“And I’m pretty sure a bird’s nest had grown in my hair from how ratty it was. Not to mention it had easily been three days since I’d showered.”
“I still thought you were beautiful. And there was no way I was going to waste an opportunity to take care of you. So I ran out and got all the fixings for some chicken soup, which you said was one of your favorite comfort foods.” He runs his hands down my arms before hooking them at the small of my back. “Since I can only imagine how trying today’s been for you, not only with the news of your brother but also being back here again, I figured some comfort food was in order.”
I close my eyes, heart swelling from how thoughtful Tristan is. He didn’t have to go through the trouble of planning dinner tonight. Could have gone along with whatever my chef had already prepared. Instead, he went out of his way to treat me to something that would bring me comfort.
“You’re too good to me,” I murmur against his lips.
“No. I’m just right for you,” he replies, as he always does whenever I say something similar. Then he kisses me sweetly before dropping his hold on me. “Go get changed. I’ll have dinner waiting for you.”
Smiling, I turn from him and make my way down the hallway. When I walk into my private suite, I pause in surprise. It doesn’t look like I remember. The décor and furniture are the same, but Tristan’s presence is overwhelming. His laptop sits on the coffee table, his messenger bag open on the sofa. A notepad rests beside it, his barely legible scrawl etched on the page. His shoes are thrown to the side, his suit jacket hanging over the back of the reading chair. It looks…lived in.
I head toward my dressing room, not surprised to find my things have been unpacked for me, and quickly strip out of my dress and heels, exchanging them for a pair of pajama pants and a loose t-shirt. Exhaling as I unhook my bra, I toss it to the side, then pile my hair on top of my head. To complete the transformation, I walk into the bathroom and scrub the makeup off my face.
When I enter the kitchen minutes later, Tristan doesn’t seem to care about my changed appearance. He still looks at me as if I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He always has.
Swiping a wine glass off the massive marble island, he hands it to me, grabbing another one and raising it.
“Cheers, darling.”
“Cheers.” I clink my glass with his and bring it to my lips, savoring in the bold red wine, rich and warm with a hint of spice and earth.
“Come sit.” He pulls out one of the barstools for me, a napkin and silverware already in front of me.
“You’ve made yourself quite at home,” I remark as he helps me onto the hightop chair.
“It’s a talent. Traveling as much as I do, you learn to make yourself at home wherever you are.”
With a wink, he heads to the six-burner stainless steel range and spoons out two bowls of soup. After dishing out the salad and slicing the bread, he returns to the island, placing the food onto the surface.
