I throw on clean leggings and an oversized sweater, then head back downstairs, following the sound of music coming from the kitchen.
Joel is standing at the stove, with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, stirring something in a large pot. NPR plays softly from a speaker on the counter, and he's humming along.
"Something smells amazing," I say from the doorway.
He glances over his shoulder and smiles. "Hope you like pasta. I'm making my grandmother's sauce. Nothing fancy, but it's comfort food."
"I love pasta." I move into the kitchen, drawn by the delicious smell. "Can I help?"
"You can keep me company." He nods toward the island. "And maybe taste this, tell me if it needs more salt."
He ladles a small amount of sauce onto a spoon and holds it out to me, one hand cupped underneath to catch any drips. I lean in and taste it, very aware of how close we're standing, of how his eyes are fixed on my mouth.
"Oh my God," I breathe. "That's incredible."
"Yeah?" His voice is lower now, rougher. "Not too acidic?"
"It's perfect." I lick my bottom lip, catching a stray drop of sauce, and watch his gaze track the movement. "Your grandmother must have been an amazing cook."
"She was Italian. Cooking was love." He turns back to the stove, but not before I see the faint flush on his cheekbones. "My ex-wife never really got that. She was always on some diet or another, afraid of carbs."
It's the first time he's mentioned his ex-wife to me directly. I know from Alexis that the divorce was a few years ago, that his wife left him for someone younger.
"Her loss," I say, echoing his words from earlier.
Joel looks at me over his shoulder, surprise flickering across his face, followed by something warmer. "Want to help me make fresh pasta? I know it's extra work, but—"
"Yes." The word comes out too eager, too bright, but I don't care. "I'd love to."
He sets me up at the marble island with flour and eggs while he continues working on the sauce. He walks me through the process—making a well in the flour, cracking the eggs into the center, slowly incorporating everything with a fork.
"You're a natural," he says, coming to stand beside me. "Look at that."
I've made a decent dough, and now I'm kneading it like he showed me, pushing and folding, the repetitive motion soothing. But I'm intensely aware of Joel standing so close, watching me work.
"Here, let me show you." He moves behind me, his chest nearly brushing my back, and places his hands over mine. "A little more pressure, like this."
His hands are warm and strong, guiding mine through the motion. I can feel the heat of his body, the solid presence of him, and every nerve ending in my body lights up with awareness. This is the closest we've ever been. This is—
Dangerous. This is dangerous.
But I don't move away. I let him guide my hands, feeling his breath on my neck, his chest rising and falling against my back. The dough becomes smooth and elastic beneath our joined hands, and the kitchen fills with comfortable silence broken only by the simmering sauce and the soft music.
"There," he murmurs, his voice right by my ear. "Perfect."
I turn my head slightly, meaning to thank him, and find his face inches from mine. His blue eyes are darker than usual, pupils dilated, and he's looking at me with an intensity that steals my breath.
We're frozen like that for a long moment—his hands still covering mine, his body warm against my back, the air thick with something I'm afraid to name.
Then he steps back abruptly, clearing his throat. "I'll, uh, get the pasta roller."
The rest of dinner prep is careful, polite, both of us dancing around each other in the kitchen. We roll out the pasta, cut it into fettuccine, and Joel teaches me how to hang it on a drying rack he's rigged up.
By the time we sit down to eat, the early awkwardness has faded into something easier. Joel opens a bottle of red wine and we eat his grandmother's pasta with the sauce that's been simmering for hours.
It's the best meal I've had in months. Maybe years.
"Tell me about work," Joel says, twirling pasta on his fork. "Alexis mentioned you're doing well at the startup."
