Page 35 of The Runaway Bride and the Billionaire

I considered calling Amelia to check in but I decided against it. We didn’t have that sort of relationship. She was free to come home whenever she wanted and she didn’t owe me any explanation. That was what I told myself because I thought it would help take my mind off her.

It didn’t help.

I reminded myself that she was working now and she probably just got held back by work. I could easily call Nico to confirm that but he still had no idea that Amelia and I knew each other. Plus, I didn’t know if Amelia was ready for him to know.

The game was doing a poor job of keeping my mind off Amelia. I kept thinking about her. She’d been leaving dinner in the fridge for me every day since Agnes left. I made sure to thank her for it every day but today, I had a better idea.

Cooking for her would be a great way to repay her for all the times she’d left me dinner. It was a small gesture but one I knew she’d really appreciate.

I spent the next hour in the kitchen cooking. I was almost done when Amelia suddenly rushed into the kitchen. I hadn’t heard the elevator ding, so I wasn’t expecting her. And from the look on her face, she wasn’t expecting to see me either.

She stared wide-eyed at where I stood by the stove with a wooden spoon in my hand. For a long moment, we simply stood there, looking at each other. I felt fairly certain we were both thinking about the same thing. The last time I cooked for her was five years ago, exactly a week before she broke up with me. She’d come over to visit me in my small apartment and I made her lunch.

“Is the food to the princess’ liking?” I asked as I watched Amelia take a bite with a small spoon of the gumbo I prepared, right out of the pot.

She scrunched her nose. She hated it when I called her a princess even though we both knew she was one. Her father was a billionaire. She’d lived a life of comfort and luxury from the moment she was born. If that didn’t make her a princess then I didn’t know what did.

Her father wasn’t a king in the literal sense, but Joseph Pierson was a king of business. I didn’t know much about the man but I knew he was a ruthless business tycoon with an eye for lucrative deals. It baffled me how someone so ruthless could produce a daughter as sweet and kind as Amelia.

I’d like to believe her mother was the reason she didn’t end up ruthless like her father but I knew that wasn’t true. I knew Nora Pierson was hardly in her daughter’s life. She preferred social events over spending time with her daughter.

“This tastes so good,” Amelia said. She smiled at me, and I felt a warm sensation in my heart. I loved seeing her smile and I loved knowing I was the reason she was smiling. I loved her. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

She asked that every time I cooked for her and every time I said, “My grandmother taught me.”

“Can you teach me?”

“The last time you tried to cook, you almost burned down my apartment,” I reminded her.

Amelia pouted. “That was a small mistake.”

“That almost killed us both.”

“That wasn’t my fault! The knobs are very confusing. It’s hard to keep track of which one is for which burner,” she said, sounding exasperated. I couldn’t help laughing and Amelia glared at me in response. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

I smiled, walked around, and hugged her from behind. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. I’ll teach you how to cook.”

“You promise?” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yes. Now finish your food before it gets cold. I’m also hungry but this isn’t the kind of meal I want.” I kissed her neck to show her what I was talking about. Amelia giggled and continued eating.

I never did get to teach her how to cook. A week after that day, she dumped me.

I coughed as I brought my mind back to the present. I shoved the memory away and focused on Amelia. She was looking at me like she was waiting for an explanation.

“I wanted to return the favor,” I said.

“Favor?”

“The dinners in the fridge.”

Understanding washed over her features. “Oh. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Amelia nodded. She looked around the room, her gaze avoiding mine as she did. It was as if she didn’t know what to do next. “Sit down,” I said as I gestured to the kitchen stool. “It’s almost ready.”

She did as I asked and the room fell silent. I dished the food onto two plates. I set one down in front of her. “Thank you,” she said. Then the room fell silent again.

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