Page 69 of Unforgettable

“Don’t be,” he says sternly. “I’m not.”

He raises his eyes to mine. “I’m enjoying my time with you. And I have no regrets about that.”

Without a word, I reach for his cheek and brush my knuckles down his jaw. “I’m enjoying my time with you too,” I echo. “And I have no regrets about it either.”

A weak smile shifts the expression on his face, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he turns away, hiding his eyes and himself from me.

Struggling to find the words to make this right, I leave us both to wade through our thoughts and wordlessly drive back to my place. I might not have the things to say to make this better, but if I know Reeve well enough, maybe the food can.

When we arrive at my place, I don’t force the conversation between us. I don’t try to make us talk about what Murph said or try to convince either of us it is anything but the truth.

I mill around the kitchen, putting food away and setting things up for dinner, while Reeve comfortably grabs a drink from my fridge and lets his eyes follow my every move.

When I feel hands at my waist and hear his voice in my ear, my body softens in relief. This was the part I hated. The tension, the unknown, and the uncertainty.

This wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t really something we could work out either. It just was.

“Let me help,” he says.

Not yet sure I have the strength to look at him, I point to the lone garlic bulb resting on the counter beside me. “You can peel and dice that,” I instruct. “The knives are in the block and—”

“The chopping board is right here.” Cutting me off, he walks to the sink and grabs the thick wooden square out of the dish rack.

“How many do you need? The whole bulb?”

“Three cloves should be fine.”

The next half an hour rolls on and the strain between us dissipates with every passing minute. We keep our hands busy preparing both the portobello mushrooms and the onions and breadcrumbs for the stuffing while we keep the conversation safe, talking about food and cooking and what we enjoy eating and what we don’t.

When I open the fridge to grab the spinach leaves and red sauce, I see the cheeses I bought from the market sitting on the first shelf. “Shit,” I hiss.

“What?” Reeve comes up behind me, trying to work out what’s wrong.

“I bought cheese for the cheeseboard,” I say dully. “We were supposed to eat it before I started cooking.”

“Hey.” He pushes me out of the way and starts grabbing all the cheese. He closes the fridge door and then turns to me. “There’s no rule that says we can’t eat everything at the same time. Finish off the mushrooms.” He uses his body to steer me back to the oven. “I’ve got this.”

I don’t argue with him, but for a split second, I feel a little hopeless. I don’t often feel off my game, and very rarely around other people.

“Come on.” Reeve appears out of nowhere, squeezing my bicep. “It’s just cheese.”

The soft look in his eyes assures me he knows it’s not about the cheese, but he isn’t going to call me out on it.

And I appreciate it.

Enough to get my head out of my ass and just let myself enjoy the night ahead with Reeve, like I originally planned.

“You’re right,” I say with a little more conviction. “Let me finish off these mushrooms.”

Turning on the oven, I place the six mushrooms on the oven rack and slide them in. Closing the door, I set it to grill and wait for the different smells of all the ingredients to waft through the kitchen.

As the mushrooms are cooking, I sauté the onion, garlic, and spinach leaves, then add in the red sauce to bind it all together.

“This smells delicious,” Reeve compliments. “And it’s so easy to make.”

He tries to dip a finger into the sauce, but I smack it away. “Stop it. It’s almost ready.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “Want me to set the table?”

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