Page 143 of Pucking Daddy

“It matters.” I keep my voice calm. “But not more than this.”

I turn the heat down, plate the sandwiches, and set them in front of her before taking the stool beside hers.

She picks up half of hers and takes a bite, then closes her eyes.

I wait.

Slowly, she opens them again. “Damn it.”

Satisfaction rolls through me. “That good?”

She points the sandwich at me. “Don’t be smug.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“It’s really good,” she mutters.

“Really good?”

She takes another bite, chewing more slowly this time like she resents enjoying it so much. “Fine. It’s maybe the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”

I nod solemnly. “Told you.”

“You’re going to be unbearable now, aren’t you?”

“Almost certainly.”

She laughs, finishing the last bite of her sandwich, then absently licks a crumb from her thumb.

My entire train of thought derails so fast it’s almost embarrassing, and I can’t stop staring.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Halberg?” she asks quietly.

For a second, I just look at her.

At the woman in my kitchen who, in just a few weeks, has become so essential to my life that not saying this now feels impossible.

I let out a breath.

“I’ve known for a while,” I say.

Her brows draw together. “Known what?”

I don’t think she has any idea what I’m about to say.

“That I’m in love with you.”

Stunned silence follows.

Zara just stares at me.

I watch the words hit her, settle, watch her blink like she’s not sure she heard me right.

“What?”

I huff a quiet laugh. “I’m in love with you, Zara,” I repeat, slower this time, like I’m explaining something simple.

Her hand lifts to her chest. “No, this—” She shakes her head. “Are you serious?”