“You made roast?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say again, feeling a bit uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
He doesn’t blink.
“You made dinner?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“You came here and made dinner?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, a little more defensively, because he’s staring at me like I grew a second head. “I came here. And I made dinner. Are you all right?”
His mouth twitches like he wants to smile, and his face won’t fully cooperate.
“I’m fine,” he says, and it comes out rough, clipped around his jaw. “I’m just… processing.”
“Processing,” I repeat, flat.
He lifts his good hand a little, palm up, like he’s presenting evidence in court.
“You,” he says slowly, voice still gravel. “In my house. In my kitchen. Cooking.”
“I didn’t set anything on fire or anything,” I say, still defensive.
That gets him. A short huff of a laugh that turns into a wince.
I glare at him, feeling awkward.
I knew it was a bad idea. And now he’s laughing at me. Feeling ridiculous and stupid, I scoop up another bite.
“Just eat,” I bite out. “I can find something else if you don’t want this.”
“Why would I want something else?” he asks.
“Because this was obviously a bad idea. A really, really stupid idea,” I say.
I try to climb out of his lap with the plate, but his arm around me stops me. It irritates me that, even as injured as he is, he can still manage that.
“It wasn’t a bad idea,” he says, and his voice goes soft. “Erica. Look at me.”
I don’t want to.
I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
“Erica,” he says again.
I finally turn my head, but I keep my eyes on the curve of his shoulder instead of his face.
“It was not a stupid idea,” he repeats. “It’s just… unexpected."
Unexpected. I stare at the curve of his shoulder, where the muscle is still tense even under a layer of bruising. That’s the story of my life with him. Unexpected texts. Unexpected visits. Unexpected danger showing up at the door. And me, making an unexpected dinner.
“Okay,” I mumble, still not looking at him. “Are you going to eat more, or are we just going to keep talking about how I overstepped?”
He doesn’t say anything for a second.
I risk a glance at him.
