Page 15 of From Fake Dates to Forever Goals

“Go away!” I call out, hoping he’ll leave me alone.

“Open the door, Ava,” he calls back, his voice laced with amusement.

It must feel like another victory for him, being seen with someone new.

“I don’t want to see you. Go away,” I snap, determined to keep him out of my misery.

“I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well open up before your neighbors come out for autographs.”

I roll my eyes, but unfortunately, he’s right. If my neighbors see Sebastian Kane standing outside my door, I’ll never hear the end of it.

“What do you want?” I huff as I fling the door open.

Sebastian stands there with his signature pearly white smile, holding a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses.

“These are for you,” he says with a teasing grin, raising an eyebrow in playful exaggeration.

“I hope these come with an apology.” I glance at the roses, noticing there’s no note attached.

“I take it you’ve seen the news,” he says, walking in uninvited.

“Is there anyone who hasn’t?” I grunt, closing the door behind him.

“So, how does it feel to be Sebastian Kane’s girlfriend?” He smirks, clearly enjoying himself.

“I wouldn’t know, since I’m not your girlfriend,” I shoot back.

“Come on, Ava. Where’s your sense of humor?” He tucks the roses into a nearby vase and heads to the kitchen to fill it with water.

This is nothing new for Sebastian. He’s used to being on every magazine cover and newspaper. I, on the other hand, prefer to stay as far away from the spotlight as possible. Unless it’s for something I’ve earned, like an award for groundbreaking research.

“I think you need to leave before we make tomorrow’s headlines,” I say, opening the door for him to leave.

Sebastian casually closes the door.

“I have no intention of leaving. I was hoping to spend the day with you,” he says, his confidence almost unnerving.

I’m shocked. After everything that’s happened, he expects me to spend the day with him?

“Are you out of your mind?” I glare at him, trying to mask my unease.

Sebastian ignores me and heads toward the kitchen. I stand there, watching him with a mix of irritation and curiosity.

He glances back at me from the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over me.

“When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”

“What?” I’m caught off guard by the question. “I, um…” I falter, trying to recall the last time I didn’t rely on takeout.

With my hectic schedule and endless workload, cooking for myself has become a rarity.

Sebastian nods knowingly.

“I thought so,” he says, grabbing an apron that’s more decorative than functional. “Would you like to be my sous chef?”

I give him a skeptical look, and he adds, “It means second in command in the kitchen. It’s French.”

“I know what it means,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “I just didn’t knowyouknew what it meant.”

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