Page 50 of Unstoppable Love

Ava chuckled, and it was so easy, so light, it felt like it was all those years ago when things were like that between easy.

The chicken and vegetables made the house smell like heaven. Ava and I worked together, mostly with her handing me vegetables to chop while she took care of the chicken and everything else.

Now she was working on the salad while I was stirring up the dumpling batter. There hadn’t been a lot of talking while we worked, outside the cooking instructions. While I didn’t mind cooking and had been doing a lot more of it since I moved out of Caleb’s house and no longer had Raul, his personal chef, cooking for me, doing it with someone who enjoyed it made the entire process a hell of a lot more fun.

Ava turned and lifted the lid on the stove. Steam wafted up. She turned down the heat. “How are the dumplings?”

“All mixed.” I tipped the bowl in her direction.

“Perfect. Do you want to scoop and dump, or do you want me to do it?”

“Scoop and dump?”

She grinned, that same easy grin she’d done earlier. The one I always used to get all those years ago and hadn’t seen much of in years. It was a metal-dipped dart to my gut every time I saw it. All the time I’d made us lose…

“Cameron?”

I yanked my gaze off her mouth and up to her eyes. Confusion wrinkled her brows.

“You okay?”

“Thinking about how much I missed that smile of yours.” I bumped her out of the way of the stove. “I’ll scoop and dump.”

I had no idea what look she’d give me for admitting that, but I wasn’t ready to see the hurt in her eyes again.

Figuring it was exactly what she made it sound like, I scooped some of the dumpling batter onto the mixing spoon and dumped it in.

As soon as I was done, she replaced the lid. “That’s it. Now we wait a few minutes while the dumplings cook, and we’re done.”

“Can I refill your drink?”

She’d had a glass of wine in her hand when I arrived, but none since we started cooking.

“Sure. There’s drinks in the fridge too if you want something.”

I needed to get up early and get back to Denver early in the morning, so I forewent the beer she had in the fridge.

Beer she would have bought for me, because on the times Ava drank beer, she always chose something American and light, and the only beer she had in the fridge was Guinness, my personal favorite.

While I refilled her wineglass, she loaded the dishes.

Her table had placemats set out, but nothing else on it. “Want me to set the table?”

“We can eat in front of the TV.”

“And watch Pitch Perfect?” I asked. Years ago, it’d been her favorite movie. Isaiah had spent an entire year calling her a pitch afterward instead of a bitch.

A heavy silence followed, and I looked up.

Ava stood opposite the island from me, with the glass of wine in her hand and a sad look written all over her.

“What?” I asked.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Be so obvious with letting me know you know all my favorite things. The dinner”—she waved her hand toward the stove—"the movies. I get we’ve known each other for a long time.”

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