Truthfully, though, my mouth is watering at the idea of him cooking for me again because this man knows his way around a kitchen.
“Sorry if that sounded like a question. I will be cooking for you while you rest, so what would you like?”
My body instantly heats at his bossy tone, liking it far too much for a girl who hates being told what to do. And who will tell someone to fuck off if they try.
“Whatever you cook the best,” I say as I rush past him, desperate to get out of the room that was starting to feel smaller than before.
We make our way down the hall to the room next to the nursery, and he opens it with a groan. “I’m sorry there’s not much in here. I don’t ever have guests, so…”
“There’s a bed. That’s all I need. All my stuff is burned, so I don’t have anything anyways.” I try to make it sound like a joke, but it only sounds pathetic.
Quentin types something on his phone, then stuffs it back in his pocket. “I’ll grab you some of my clothes to wear. The bathroom cupboard is stocked with girl products if you want to shower.”
“I thought you’d never had guests?” The question flies out of my mouth before I can stop it, because I know he can tell that it’s laced with jealousy.
He smirks knowingly, leaning against the doorframe. “I haven’t. It’s from Camille, who insists that I should have it here in case she or Olivia ever need to spend the night.”
“Good thing, I guess,” I reply as I sit on the bed and instantly want to melt into the mattress. I don’t think I’ve ever lain on something so comfortable.
“I’ll leave you be while I cook. Feel free to do whatever you want and call for me if you need something. Before I go down to cook, though, I’ll drop off some clean clothes for you to wear.”
“Thank you…for all of this.” I clear my throat of the emotion that’s threatening to spill out for the second time today.
“Not a problem. It’ll be nice to have some company for a while,” he admits, then straightens and exits the room without another word.
I go straight to the shower, feeling like I need to wash the weight of the day away the best that I can.
It works marginally, as stepping out of a hot shower does make me feel slightly better, but it doesn’t erase the stress of the day. The shower stuff and skincare products are okay for now, but I’ll need to hit a drugstore as soon as possible to get the products I usually use. Along with an entire new wardrobe, shoes, bras…
Throb. Throb. Throb.
My head pounds as my list of things to do on top of baby stuff piles up. I do my best to push it aside and focus on feeling better right now, which means going downstairs to eat whatever he’s cooking.
As Quentin promised, there is a stack of clothes on the bed waiting for me. I hold the sweatpants up and frown because they aren’t going to fit.
I put them on anyways, tying them as tight as I possibly can. Once I throw the Detroit Panthers long-sleeve shirt on, I make my way downstairs.
A delicious scent wafts into the room as I plug my phone into the charger, grateful that I always carry it in my purse. I follow the scent down the hall and stairs, to the stunning kitchen.
Black cupboards, with gray marble countertops and backsplash to match, and two ovens stacked on top of one another, which tells me he cooks a lot.
“It smells delicious. What are you making?” I ask, signaling my presence in the room.
“I’m making chicken in a creamy mushroom sauce, with a side of rice.”
“That sounds delicious. Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask as I come up to the counter, my mouth watering at the sight of the meal he’s cooking. It looks amazing.
He peers down at me and tilts his head toward the living room. “You can sit down and rest. It’ll help me relax knowing you’re resting.”
I roll my eyes. “Not dying, remember? But I will go sit down only because I have a headache.”
“Feel free to put whatever on the TV or music,” Quentin calls out as I plop down on his couch that I already know is going to be perfect to nap on.
“Only if you’re ready for screamy music.” I chuckle as I settle in and grab the remote to turn the TV on.
There’s something about listening to music that’s loud and angry. It makes me feel seen because that’s how I felt growing up.
“This is going to be your home for the next couple of months, Teagan. I want you to be comfortable. If that means I listen to people scream as they sing sometimes, then I’m okay with that.”
