Page 51 of Faking It with the Firefighter

He smiled. “Hey. I was just about to bring you breakfast in bed.”

I couldn’t help but react with a delighted smile. “Really?”

It had been a while since anyone did something like this forme. Everyone always assumed that just because I put on a brave face, I didn’t like nice gestures. My ex had demanded so much of me and made me feel so small, and he’d never once gone out of his way to make me feel special.

This was only breakfast, but it made me feel like I was floating on air.

Rex grinned at me, looking delicious. He still had a bit of sleep in his eyes, and his pants hung low on his hips. “Yeah. I figured you deserved a good morning meal after your house was taken over by the bride squad.”

“Bride Tribe.”

“Whatever. The point is that we have the house to ourselves this morning.” Yes, we did. Donny and Blair had left early for DC, and the bridesmaids had returned from whence they came…for now.

I knew exactly what I wanted to use all that time for. I sidled closer, putting a hand on Rex’s back. Mm…muscles. Rex leaned into my touch, one hand gripping a pair of tongs that flipped perfectly brown sausages. “You know,” he said, “your pans are like new. One of them still had the price tag on it.”

“Oh, yeah, I…upgraded,” I said.

Rex arched a brow, amusement glimmering in his eyes. “The price tag was from Ronnie’s shop, which closed down three years ago.”

“I upgraded a few years ago,” I amended.

“And haven’t cooked since?”

“I thought this was a Spanish omelet, not the Inquisition.”

He just smiled. “And the rest of your cupboards are full of microwave popcorn.”

“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions,” I proclaimed.

“Not even the real stovetop stuff,” he said, shaking his head with atsk.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin my nice new pans.”

His smile was like the sun. No one had ever seen my microwave popcorn habit and not been judgmental about it. “I’ll show you how to make the stovetop stuff someday.”

“If you trust me with a gas range,” I agreed, nodding to my stove.

He grinned. “I think you can handle it. Go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring breakfast to you.”

I sat at the kitchen table and looked out the sunny window, taking in the changing leaves. Rex set a plate down in front of me, then quickly swooped in with a cup of steaming coffee.

The omelet was perfectly cooked. The sausages smelled and looked delicious. The toast was golden brown, and Rex had buttered it all the way to the edge and cut it into triangles. He’d put so much effort into this.

I stared at the food. There was something strange going on in my heart. It thumped erratically, and my throat felt all tight and hot. This was exactly what my ex-husband had wanted from me. What he’dexpectedand always made me feel like some kind of failure for not being able to provide. But he’d never once done it for me. He’d taken and taken and taken, demanded and pouted and demeaned, and I’d come out of the relationship feeling like there was something wrong with me.

Rex hummed to himself, piling his plate with twice the amount of food as mine, looking casual and comfortable and happy. He wasn’t expecting anything of me. He wasn’t doing this to catch me out and make me owe him something.

He was just beingRex.

“I can’t believe you made me breakfast,” I finally said.

“Why not? No one’s ever made you breakfast before?” he asked, grinning like it was a ridiculous statement.

My gaze fell to my old tablecloth. “No, actually.”

“Oh.” Rex sat down next to me with his matching, although much larger, meal, and I felt the shame of my marriage surface. If Travis had done something like this, it would’ve been a thinly veiled attempt at making me feel like a failure. Rex speared a sausage. “Well, someone should have. And to be clear, this is the only thing I can cook. From noon onward it’s takeout all the way in my house.”

I looked up into Rex’s dark eyes, falling a little more for that slash across his eyebrow. I smiled. “Thank you.” Part of me didn’t want to, but I took a bite—and it was exactly what I was afraid of. Delicious. I hummed, satisfaction sending tingles all the way down to the tips of my toes. This was something I could get used to.

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