AllFreeNovel
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“Whyare we going to my place?”
“So,Ican cook you dinner.”
“Ithought you only knew how to make pancakes.”
“Whilepancakes are my most impressive dish,Iknow how to make one or two other things.You’rejust going to have to trust me.”
“Areyou planning on staying overnight?”
“Nope.”
Ifrown.Andthere’s the problem right there.HowcanItrust him whenIdon’t know what he’s up to?Ididn’t see a single photographer today.Ididn’t see one camera flash or anything else suspicious, and trust me,Iwas watching.
“Whatever.You’vegot two more weeks.Youcan use them up however you choose.It’syour time.Ifyou want to spend it cooking for me, that’s your business.”
Jacksonpulls up in front of his house and jumps out of the car.Heopens the big front door, andOatscomes running out.BeforeIcan open my door, he jumps in onJackson’sside and is across the console and on my lap.
“Imissed you too, baby.Yes,Idid.You’rethe best boy in the whole, entire world, aren’t you?Yes, you are!You’rejust the most beautiful boy?Who’sthe most beautiful?”Ipull his ears in front of his eyes in a game of peek-a-boo. “Youare, yes you are!”
“Doyou two need a minute alone?”Jackson’sat the back of the truck, putting something crinkly inside, butIdon’t look away from the golden bundle of curls smothering me.Oatsnever makes me guess what he’s thinking or how he feels about me.
“Yes, actually.I’dlove to spend the evening with justOats.Feelfree to drop us off and then head back to your palace.”
“Toobad.”IsJackson’steeth grinding thing back?Whatis going on with that?He’llbe lucky to have any teeth left if he keeps this up.
Thedrive back to my place is uneventful.Oatsis excited to be somewhere new, and whileIwalk him across the street and take him for a pee,Jacksonpulls four large fabric grocery bags out of the back of his car.
“What’sall that?”
“Dinner.Or, it will be.”
“Ona scale of one to ten, how likely is it thatI’mgoing to be ordering myself takeout for dinner?”
“Asolid seven.Maybean eight.Butlet’s live dangerously,”Jacksonsays with a grin.Thatsmile.Thoseblue eyes.It’snot fair that he looks at me like that and expects me to not get attached.
WhenIunlock the door,Oatsrushes in to sniff everything his perfect little nose can reach, andIleadJacksonback to the kitchen.Idon’t thinkI’veever seen him do anything in his own kitchen except for getting a glass of water or using the fancy espresso machine.I’mfearful for my beloved little vintage kitchen.She’snot the biggest or the best, but she’s all mine.Andmy landlord’s.
Jacksonplaces the bags precariously on the small, rolling island and then unloads them.
“Doyou need any help with that?”
“No, no.”Jacksonlooks around the small kitchen.He’sholding a small bag of flour in one hand and an eggplant in the other.Hedefinitely seems like he needs help. “Actually, yeah.Acorkscrew?WherewouldIfind a corkscrew?”
“Littledrawer next to the oven.”
Hescans the kitchen again. “Right, got it.”
Heretrieves the corkscrew and opens a chilled bottle of rosé, pouring me a glass and then handing it to me, before placing the bottle in the fridge to stay cold.
“Whenwas the last time you cooked anything?”
“Themorning after our first time.”Jacksongrins at me. “WhenImade you my special pancakes.”
“Right?Andbefore that?”
Heruns his hand through his hair. “Ihonestly don’t even remember.”
Myheart tightens just a little knowing that pancakes aren’t his go-to morning after routine.Thatmaybe it was something at least a little special, just for me.Justfor us.
