Page 86 of Play Pretend

She turned fully toward me and pointed the spatula accusingly. “Your trashisalways on my side.”

“It is not,” I laughed, pulling the fridge open. It was fuller than it usually was. Willow just bought groceries and didn’t want her stuff to go bad, so I brought it to my place.

I grabbed a bottle of water before leaning against the counter. She rolled her eyes as she turned back to the stove and flipped the pancake onto a plate. She moved onto chopping strawberries, and I clenched my jaw as the knife sliced through each berry.

“Be careful,” I said, moving closer.

“I work with knives every day,” she muttered, but I didn’t care. Because all it would take was one slip, one moment of distraction, and she’d hurt herself.

“Why don’t you let me cut them?” I took another step forward, leaving the bottle on the counter.

“I can do it,” she laughed. “Don’t let me interrupt your routine. Do what you need to. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

My lips rolled between my teeth as I watched her pour another pancake on the hot pan. It sizzled and bubbled, showing just how hot it was, and I scrubbed my hand over my mouth.

“We can go to the diner,” I rasped, my heart in my throat. “You don’t have to cook.”

“I’m almost done.” She glanced at me again, her brows pushed tightly together. Steam and heat billowed from the stove. I tapped my fingers against each other, trying to calm down. “Ronan, you’re hovering.”

I hadn’t realized I’d moved even closer, crowding her. I took a large step back, my fingers still tapping together. “Why don’t I?—”

“I’ll be fine.” She laughed again, and the sound was bright and airy. “I’ve been cooking most of my life, Ro. I’m around knives and hot ovens every day. Have a little faith in me.”

It wasn’t that I thought she was incapable, but she was needlessly putting herself in danger. Not life-threatening danger, but—well, it could be life-threatening. What if she tripped and face-planted on the pan? Or what if she dropped the knife and it somehow stabbed her in the stomach?

It was unlikely. I knew that. It was completely illogical and ridiculous, but my mind couldn’t stop playing out worst-case scenarios.

I knew I had to leave her alone or she’d turn the knife on me.

With a deep breath, I took another step back. I couldn’t stop watching her, though. She moved like a waltz. It was beautiful.

Another breathy laugh left her as she finished plating the pancake and turned toward me. She popped her hip to the side as she folded her arms over her chest. “You don’t trust me in your kitchen? I promise I won’t burn the place down.”

Fuck, I hadn’t even thought of her starting a fire. I leapt forward, and she playfully swatted my outstretched hands away.

“You’re making me nervous.” She laughed again, and even if she meant for her words to be lighthearted, they made me stop. I didn’t want to make her nervous, but I couldn’tstop.“If youwant to help,” she grabbed the bowl of strawberries, “put this on the table please?”

She batted her lashes at me, and I chuckled, rolling my eyes as I grabbed the plate. By the time I was done putting the silverware, napkins, and fruit on the table, she was heading my way with the platter of pancakes.

“You don’t have syrup,” she said. “I think I have some at my place.” She chewed her lip as she stared at the door. “I have honey, too. If you prefer that.”

“I’ll go get it,” I blurted. The smile she gave me was full of relief, and I reached for her hand. “There’s no rush to go over there. It’ll still be there when you’re ready.”

She gently squeezed my hand before she let go and moved back to the kitchen. I hesitated for a moment, my gaze fixated on the stove. I needed to check it, but she wanted syrup. I’d check when I got back.

I’d never moved so quickly in my life. I found the glass jars of syrup and honey and sprinted back to my place. I dropped the jars off at the table as I rushed to the kitchen, touching each knob on the stove to make sure it was off. Quickly, I checked the microwave again and let out a small breath.

The door.

I gave Willow a tight smile as I soared past her. Why couldn’t I juststop? Why did I have to do this? Why couldn’t I be normal?

I locked and unlocked the door, and when I was done, I braced my hand against the wood, breathing deeply. She probably thought I was insane—Ithought I was insane sometimes. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop.

Was she staring at me? Probably. I felt her gaze on my back.

With a deep breath, I forced a smile on my face and turned toward her. She didn’t say anything as I sank into my usual chair. She piled strawberries on her pancakes before pouring maple syrup all over them.

“You didn’t have butter,” she said softly. “I forgot to tell you to grab it from my place.”

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