Page 33 of Fools in Love

Once I was inside my high-rise building, I got into the waiting elevator and pressed the button for my floor, the doors closing loudly. Some days, I took the stairs for a little extra exercise, but today was not one of those days. My feet were already aching for no real reason at all.

When I stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, the smell of food hit my senses like a slap to the face. My stomach growled. I wondered whose apartment the delicious scent was coming from. As I reached my front door, I turned the knob and stepped inside. The incredible smell was coming from my place!

Robbie stood in the kitchen, commanding the oven and the stove, all at once, two glasses of red wine already poured and waiting on the counter. He spun around when I slammed the door, a nervous grin on his face.

“Welcome home,” he said, and I practically ran into his arms.

“I could smell this all the way down the hall,” I said before planting a kiss on his cheek.

He pulled out a wooden spoon and blew on it before feeding the white sauce to me.

Mmm, Alfredo.

I moaned in delight as I swallowed. “So good.”

“I’m glad.” He swatted my ass before telling me to get out of the kitchen. “Wines on the counter.”

“I’m going to get changed.” I wanted out of my business attire and into comfy but still sexy clothes.

I kicked off my heels and grabbed a pair of thick socks from my drawer. Dropping the rest of my clothes in a pile on the floor, I pulled out a pair of black yoga pants that claimed to lift my ass and a white crop top. Robbie always stopped what he was doing whenever I wore something that showed off my stomach. Claimed he couldn’t help himself. It usually led to sex. Which, trust me, I was not complaining about.

By the time I walked back into the kitchen, Robbie was plating the food. He stopped, dropping the utensils the second he caught sight of me, his eyes homing in on my exposed tummy.

“April,” he growled.

“Sorry,” I said even though I wasn’t and we both knew it.

He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again, focusing solely on the food. Asparagus from the air fryer—one of my absolute favorite things to eat—sat next to a pile of thick noodles, covered in homemade Alfredo sauce, which was topped with fresh Parmesan, pine nuts, and basil. When he pulled the garlic bread from the oven, my jaw dropped. There were chunks of garlic covering the slice of French bread.

“Did you make that from scratch?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

Before I could ask who’d taught him, I remembered that he’d learned how to cook in the firehouse. They made family-style meals every night, rotating jobs, and he’d picked up a few things over the years.

He slid a plate in front of me and one next to me at the bar, and I grabbed my glass of wine and held it in the air.

“Thank you for dinner. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me. For not letting me walk away. And for being the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said, and I started tearing up.

“What was all that for?” I asked, my voice emotional as we clinked our glasses together and each took a sip.

“Just wanted you to know.”

Putting my glass on top of the counter, I sucked in a breath. “What’s going on? Are you breaking up with me?”

Robbie practically spit out his wine. “Why would you think I was breaking up with you after I said all that and made you dinner and brought you flowers today?”

“I don’t know,” I said, flustered. “Because you did all those things. Are you dying? Oh my God, you’re dying, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “I’m in love with you, April. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but it’s only been six months, and I like to pretend that I’m smart instead of someone who rushes into things without thinking twice.”

“Okaaaay.” My heart raced inside my chest.

We’d talked about getting married down the road, but we had both agreed that it was too soon.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

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