Page 79 of The Accidental Honeymoon

“Okay, first of all, it’s not any trouble for me to cook for you. Second, I could nibble on something. Third, though I rarely do it, cooking is very relaxing. I want to showcase my prowess.”

I step closer, peering over his shoulder. He’s got a mixing bowl full of something that looks suspiciously like ground poultry and a cutting board piled high with greens. “What is all this?”

“My special turkey meatloaf, black-eyed peas, and a green salad.” He says this with a touch of pride. “It’s the only culinary trick up my sleeve.”

The smell is already making my mouth water. There’s something disarming about seeing him like this, in an apron with his sleeves rolled up, hands messy with meat and spices. It feels so domestic.

“I appreciate it.” I’m surprised by how much I mean it. The whole situation is surreal. But there’s a strange comfort in the thought of a home-cooked meal.

Well, to be fair, my mom did have quite a spread at her house. But this is the second time in one day that someone else cooked for me.

I could get used to this.

He washes his hands and wipes them on the apron. Then he takes the meatloaf and slides it into the oven with a practiced ease.

“Low and slow.” He says this more to himself than to me. He moves to the stove and stirs a pot of black-eyed peas. The aroma mingles with the scent of the meatloaf. “These just need to simmer.”

I take a seat at the kitchen island, resting my chin in my hands. “Where did you learn to cook?”

Jay leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “My mom. She was a high-powered corporate raider so she wasn’t around much. But when she was, she made sure we had time together in the kitchen.”

There’s a softness in his eyes when he talks about his mother. A tender vulnerability that tugs at something inme. I push the feeling away, filing it under “useful information.”

“The house smells amazing.” I don’t know what else to say.

Jay grabs a glass of water. He raises it to me with a small, crooked smile. “Here’s to not starving.”

“Hear hear.” I wink at him.

Jay laughs. It’s a sound that I desperately want to hear more of.

“Hey, since you’re cooking… I can start to unpack and organize upstairs. My fingers have been itching to tame that part of the house.”

The thought of putting his house in order is oddly appealing. It’s the kind of task that would let me switch my brain to autopilot. I need a breather from the thousand complications currently vying for my attention.

But I’m also dog tired. My physical exhaustion wars with my need to help Jay make his house a home.

He considers my offer, but shakes his head. “No,” he says gently, and waves me toward the living room. “Come sit down. Relax.”

He leads me back to the couch. I follow, too tired to argue. We sink into the cushions. For a moment, we just sit in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, which surprises me. I’ve grown so used to the constant hum of activity around Jay. His never-ending stream of notifications and updates seem like they are a part of him. I’d forgotten what a quiet moment can feel like.

I scoot closer and rest my head on his chest. His arm comes around me. I feel his steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. It’s a surprisingly grounding sensation.

For the first time today, I feel like maybe I’m doing something right.

“Tell me about your family?”

“My parents?” Jay’s fingers trail idly along my shoulder as he talks. “They’re… hands-off. They retired early a few years ago. Now they’re on a world cruise, for eighteen months. I couldn’t even tell you the last time I talked to either of them.”

“That’s…” I hesitate, searching for the right word. “Lonely?”

He shrugs. A small movement that I feel, more than see.

“Not really. I’ve got Wren. We’ve got Wildflower Lane. All my college friends moved here, too. We wanted to make sure we stuck together, so we all bought houses on the same block.”

“That’s sweet.”

“I even bought the apartment building at the end of the block,” he adds. “Wren’s living there while she sorts things out.”

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