Reluctantly, I squared my shoulders, then pulled my oven door open. I carefully removed my tray of chocolate chip cookies and set them on the oven mitts I’d arranged on my counter.
I closed my oven as I eyed the tray of cookies—which were a pleasing golden color and didn’t smell burned. They were flatter than the picture on the bag, and were a little lopsided, but I wasn’t sure if that would affect the taste. “They look…edible?”
“Which would lead one to assume they are,” Considine said.
“No.” I braced myself on the counter. “I made them, so that’s not a safe assumption.”
I prodded the cookies with my spatula.
They moved easily—they weren’t burned onto the tray.
I cautiously slipped my spatula under one and flipped it over, narrowing my eyes at the bottom, which was also a nice golden color, indicating it was cooked all the way through.
“Did I actually succeed this time?” I set the spatula down, then impulsively scooped up the chocolate chip bag. “I better read the ingredients list again. Maybe I forgot something.”
Considine picked up the cookie I’d flipped and waved it in the air.
I glanced up from the package, wondering what he was doing, then dropped the bag in shock when he took a bite of the cookie.
He chewed, then swallowed. “It’s good. Almost too hot to eat, but it turned out great.” He winked at me, then took another bite.
I gaped at him. “You don’t eat human food.”
Considine shrugged and ate the rest of the cookie. “I eat it occasionally.”
“You don’t eat homemade food,” I said. “Much lessmyhomemade food.”
“I believed in you, and knew this would be edible,” he said.
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t even eat my party mix, and the only problem with it was that it turned out bland,” I said.
Considine’s smile grew smirky as he leaned in. “That was before I realized I loved you. Now I know. And I’d eat any creation you made as long as it makes you happy.”
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Jade
Istared up at Considine, and for a moment, my brain and heart came to an agreement that overrode my gut instinct to be embarrassed.
I think…that’s the first time he’s said to my face that he loves me. Previously, he used terms like ‘fancy,’ and he’d agree when other people called me his beloved.
Simultaneously, another grim realization dawned on me.
How much does it cost him, emotionally, to say that? He doesn’t care about his reputation, but between what he said as Connor and how he acted as Ruin it was obvious he’d walled himself off. Probably after losing Ambrose.
His loyalty to Ambrose had him watching the Dracos children centuries later. How hard was it for him—to love me and be so patient in waiting—when he knew the inevitable end?
And he still chose me.
Considine’s smile grew smaller, but somehow it didn’t seem to dim. He tilted his head to the left and then to the right, asif the different angles would help him figure out what I was thinking.
“Thank you,” I said. “I…I…”
I couldn’t identify what I wanted to say—or even what I was feeling. Except that I knew what Considine was giving me was precious, and I appreciated it, but I didn’t know what came next. I had no protocol for this.
Once again, Considine kissed my temple. “Don’t rush yourself. I’m not going anywhere.”
