Page 104 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“You going to just stand there watching me, or are you going to join me?” Chem asked, never looking up from the skillet.

“I’m still deciding.”

“I’ve waited long enough for you to wake, Choc. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

I cleared the distance, nearly sprinting to his side. He pulled me in and leaned down to plant a wet kiss on my lips. He released me too quickly. I stuck around, standing behind him as my hands roamed his stomach and chest. I laid my head on his back, inhaling his scent, exhaling, and then inhaling again.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Choc. How’d you sleep?”

“Well, until I noticed I was alone.”

“I heard your stomach growling in your sleep, so I knew you’d be hungry when you woke up. I have to feed you.”

“Shut up, seriously?”

“I’m not in the kitchen just to be here right now. Yes, seriously.”

My cheeks flushed as I buried my face in his shirt. “Argh. What are we having?”

My words were muffled but still easy to make out.

“Chicken quesadillas. Something to hold us over while we shop. We’re having dinner tonight.”

Dinner was Chemistry’s favorite time of the day.

“You love dinner so much.”

“It is my favorite meal of the day, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because, by dinner, my day is done. I can sit down without as nearly as much on my mind or plate as there was when I sat down for breakfast or lunch. It’s my time. I cherish those moments.”

“As you should. Slowly, it’s becoming my favorite part of the day, too.”

“We’re not as different as you think.”

“Yet, we are.”

“I won’t deny that. How is this?”

He forked a piece of chicken and turned around with the fork aimed at my lips. I opened, accepting the serving.

“Ummmmm. Yes. That’s perfect.”

Juicy. Tender. Seasoned to perfection. I didn’t need bread and cheese with it. The chicken was perfect all on its own.

Chem turned off the burner and slid the skillet to the other side of the eight-burner stove. It was massive and I’d tried to make it down more than once to use it, but I was unsuccessful. However, the dinner we’d collectively cooked last night was worth the wait. The stove itself was a beast. If you weren’t careful or had anything up slightly higher than it should be, you’d regret it. Chem had jeopardized our potatoes twice, but they survived.

“Can I help?”

“No, thank you, Eden. All I need is for you to have a seat at the table and wait for me to serve you. Water or lemonade?”

“Lemonade?”

“Made it this morning,” he informed me.

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