Page 25 of Exile

I nodded. “Got it. Well, it smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.”

He glanced at me, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Sit.”

Yes, sir.

I got comfortable as Caspian turned to the oven to take out the fish.

I watched him as he plated it with a side of potatoes.

“You drink wine?” he asked casually.

“Sure.”

He grabbed a bottle from the counter, opened it with practiced ease, and poured two glasses before setting them on the table. I caught a faint whiff of the wine’s sweetness as he slid a plate before me.

“Looks amazing, Caspian,” I said, picking up my fork.

“It’s just fish,” he muttered, sitting across from me.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You caught it, cooked it…might as well open a restaurant,” I teased, trying to coax a reaction out of him.

He huffed out a laugh, focusing on his plate. “Yeah, sure.”

I smiled and took a bite, the flavors melting on my tongue. “This is incredible. You’re a really good cook.”

“Thanks.” His eyes lingered on me longer than usual before he returned to his plate.

We ate mostly in silence, broken by the occasional clink of cutlery against plates. The atmosphere felt easy, and I felt comfortable around him. But then, I usually did.

When we were done, Caspian stood and cleared the plates without a word. I offered to help, but he waved me off.

He grabbed a small box from the counter and set it on the table.

“Dessert,” he said shortly, opening the box to reveal two slices of cheesecake.

I blinked, surprised. “You bought cheesecake? I thought you didn’t eat sweets.”

“But you do.”

Oh.

I watched him closely as I realized what he just said kicked in. “And cheesecake isn’t sweet. At least not the one from the bakery,” he said, saving himself from the hidden sweet thing he had said seconds before.

“Well, I love cheesecake.”

“Figured.”

I smiled as he slid one of the slices toward me. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

He didn’t respond, but I didn’t take it personally. I knew my words had an effect on him.

As we ate, I noticed how his shoulders seemed to relax, the usual sharpness in his expression softening as the minutes passed. It was a rare sight, and I watched him for longer than I probably should have.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“Dinner. Sharing a meal with someone.”

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