Page 137 of A Forgotten Promise

He sighs, but he heads toward the patio. “Did you eat?”

“Hm, don’t be mad. I have been really trying to eat regu… re-gura-ri-ly. Fuck, that’s a hard word, but I didn’t get a chance today.”

My answer changes his trajectory, and he now heads to the kitchen where he sits me on the stool.

“You’re mad.” I pout.

He wraps his arms around me and smothers me in a hug. It’s comforting and worshiping, and kind of worrying.

“What’s wrong, Corm?”

He kisses the crown of my head. “Nothing, The Morrigan; I was worried.”

“Why?” I hiccup. “Oops.”

“Let me make you something to eat.” He saunters to the fridge, and my gaze lands on his ass. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats, and he’s positively edible.

“You should cook naked.” I slide from the stool.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Should I now?” The heat in his eyes sobers me up. A little.

My pussy awakens, full of memories from last night, and even more full of yearning. “Yes, I’ll join you.”

Shaking his head again, he puts a dish into the oven. “Well, at least you’re an adorable drunk.”

He opens the fridge and hands me an electrolyte drink. “Chug it.”

While there is a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, I can now see how exhausted he looks. I unscrew the cup. “Is everything okay?”

“You mean besides all the shit that is not okay currently?”

Another dose of sober pills. “Well, yes, but you look more worried. What’s going on, Corm? Do you regret marrying me already?” I keep grinning for some reason.

His eyes bore into me, his expression fierce. “The only thing I regret is that it took this long to get here.”

He leaves to get something in the pantry, and I drink because it’s easier than to look for the appropriate response to his admission.

It’s also probably helpful to sober me up a little more, so I can have a proper conversation with him.

I should tell him about my trust fund. But I fear he’d go into a full-blown Corm-to-the-rescue mode, and it will only piss me off.

He returns with a tray as the oven dings. The scent of thyme and tomatoes permeates the space between us as he scoops some pasta into a plate.

“You ate already?” I ask, trying to ignore the eerie feeling sneaking inside me. Something is off, but I don’t quite know what.

“I’m not hungry. Let’s go.” He picks up the tray now laden with my plate, cutlery, and a large glass of water.

“Where?”

“Your favorite place in the house.” He walks to the large glass patio entrance.

“How do you know it’s my favorite part of the house?” But of course he does. He notices things about me, sometimes before I do.

“It’s where I went down on you the first time.” He pushes at the door handle with his elbows.

I roll my eyes and follow him, the stupid grin still tugging at my lips.

While I finish the most delicious pasta I’ve ever had, Corm makes the fire. Sitting beside me, he takes my empty plate from me and hands me the water.

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