This smile comes to his face, and I nearly ask what it’s for, but don’t.
“I’ve always loved breakfast for dinner because my mom was a firm believer that it didn’t matter what time of day it was, you should just eat food. In the morning, if she made anything non-traditional for breakfast, she would always joke that it was to spite my dad. Apparently, he had some questions when she would be eating pasta for breakfast.”
I snort. “Pasta for breakfast actually sounds pretty good.”
Beck’s smile only grows as he starts to cut open the meats we bought. “It became this whole thing. ‘Breakfast’ food was practically only eaten at dinner time in our house, unless that’s just what you were craving in the morning.”
“I love that.” I move my eggs over to the stove. “And only solidifies my idea of menudo more. It’s typically served as a breakfast or brunch food, but it’s a soup so especially in the winter, it would hit the spot any time of the day.”
Beck slides in beside me and places two pans on the stove. He plants a quick kiss to the side of my head. “I look forward to trying it. And maybe you can teach me how to make it.”
Warmth fills my body. This has gone entirely too far, so fast. I love this man. And it wasn’t the sex that started it, it was just him. He hasn’t done anything inherently romantic, no candles, flowers, or fancy dates. Or, really, I don’t think I realized what type of romantic I was until Beck.
With my ex, I did get all the things. The basic romance of the same exact expensive restaurant for dates and gorgeous flowers but the kicker is they came with condescending remarks and judgment. But that’s not Beck. He could do all those things, but the difference is the partner, and I want Beck to be mine.
I won’t judge Beck if he says he doesn’t see more for us, but I have to put us on the table for him to actually do that. Moving on from him will hurt so much worse, but I have to know if this is truly what he wants before letting him go.
The question is, when do I tell him?
“How was brunch with Lucie?” Beck asks, pulling me back to the moment.
“Oh, uh, it was good.” Shaking off the wave of emotions that just hit me, I put my focus back on scrambling our eggs. “I went to meet Reagan first. She’s having a contractor come in to get some more outlets, a room, and an extra sink added.”
“That’s great, whenever you want to call in our deal, just let me know.”
We’ve got two deals going, but I want to call in on the other one.
When I don’t answer, Beck nudges me with his elbow. “You okay? If you want to talk about that more?—”
I shake my head again.Come on, Jensen, pull yourself together.
“No, no, we’re fine, I was just thinking of where to start that’s all.” Technically, not a lie. “I also talked to Luce today about having Emma paint some murals. Apparently, Reagan asked about that too, so we’ll be talking to her about some things later. I have a feeling her payment request will either be monetary or florals for life.”
Beck snorts. “Yeah, Emma doesn’t exactly scream tattoos, does she?”
I give him a side-eye.
His shoulders drop. “Jen, come on? You said?—”
I wave him off. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time.” Keeping this playful moment going, I look at him again. “I think we just talked about jealousy being okay. Don’t be thinking about what Emma screams.”
Beck’s head tilts back with a genuine laugh. He sets down his spatula and his hands find either side of my face. “You are the only girl I ever want.”
I suck in a breath. His smile is cheesy and seemingly appears carefree, but if his dad was telling the truth about his tell…then Beck actually means that.
I sit with that all through finishing our dinner. I know Beck can tell something’s off. I try my best to mask it with the excuse that I’m just hungry, but now our plates are empty and I’m racking the balls on the pool table looking for some sort of distraction.
“Are you sure you want to play?” Beck asks, handing me my cue.
“Yeah,” I say, turning my eyes back to the table. “I don’t think we’ve played together since that time you tricked everyone into a pool tournament for Callie and Will.”
Beck lets out a soft chuckle. “You mean the night I became obsessed with you.”
My shoulders relax slightly and I want to joke about him being my stalker or how delusional he was, but they all get stuck in my throat. “I’ll break.”
Beck opens his mouth to speak, but I move to line up with the cue ball. As I lean down, my phone dings twice back-to-back and then another follows.
“Want me to get that?” Beck asks cautiously.
