It hits me then just how much he’s trusting me.
As far as I know, this apartment is his only home. Everything in his life is here. And so am I.
The weight of what I’m doing, the level of trust that’s been placed on my shoulders, presses down on me.
Determined to prove that he’s made the right decision, I march toward the coffee machine and study it for a moment.
He made it look so easy earlier…
“Please work,” I beg as I press my fingers against the button I hope is going to give me coffee, and the second it does, I do alittle happy dance. The milk is easier to figure out, and I steam it until it’s frothy before adding it to my mug. I stare down at the foam on the top, missing my pretty tulip.
He’s really going to need to follow through on that promise and teach me. I want pretty coffee.
With my steaming mug in hand, I take a seat at the island where my iPad awaits. A thrill shoots through me as I pull my notebook closer and grab the pen. There is nothing I love more than menu planning.
I spendthe rest of the day at Cole’s. I search through all the cupboards properly and take note of everything that’s here. I check over dates of everything in the fridge and make sure my plan uses up all the ingredients he left for me to work with.
For someone who doesn’t cook, he’s done a pretty decent job. I’m going to need to pick up a few items, but I can easily feed him for the rest of the week without doing a full grocery shop.
With the next few days’ worth of food set in stone, I spend a couple of hours prepping ingredients to save me time later. And once that is all done, I sit back down with my iPad and dive into research.
Even prior to being offered this job, I had already pretty much decided that I wanted to go back to school to study nutrition. But now that I’m here, it’s firmed up that decision even more. I want to know so much more about the kind of nutrients that athletes need to stay at the top of their game, and the foods that can be incorporated into their diets to increase intake.
I get so lost in my reading that I completely lose track of time.
“Oh no.” I gasp when I check the clock and note that I should already have the oven preheating for tonight’s meal. I hop up and set to work, hoping I can catch up so I can deliver on my promise of having it ready for when he steps into the apartment.
Popping one AirPod in, I select my cooking playlist and get to work.
Soon, the kitchen is flooded with the scent of garlic, onions, and tomatoes. My stomach growls as I stir my sauce. It’s reduced perfectly, my pasta is almost done, and my steak is ready for searing.
Cole messaged fifteen minutes ago to let me know that he was heading home.
The moment I saw his name on my screen, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness twisted up my stomach. Is he going to like what I’ve made? Will it be enough after a long day training?
As soon as I hear the door open, I lower the steak into the pan.
It sizzles perfectly. The savory aroma of the meat browning fills the air, and my stomach growls once again.
But as good as what I’ve made might look, I won’t be eating here tonight.
Casey messaged earlier inviting me for dinner with her and Parker to celebrate my new job. She’s even managed to snag a table at a new, exclusive restaurant that opened a few months ago, which I’ve been dying to try. I can only imagine she name-dropped her boyfriend—not that I’m complaining.
I’m going to go home, put on one of my new dresses, and celebrate this new chapter of my life in style.
Screw the past,him, and the heartbreak. I am finally coming out the other side, and I am so ready for it.
“That smells insane,” Cole says by way of greeting as he joins me in the kitchen.
I watch my timer and pull the steak from the pan right on time before letting it rest on the board while I plate everything else up. Finally, I thinly slice the steak and arrange it on top of the pasta, veggies and sauce.
“Bon appétit,” I say as I place it in front of him.
“And you speak French; could you be any more perfect?”
His praise lights me up inside and has heat blooming on my cheeks.
“Where’s yours?” he asks.
