Page 58 of The Chef

One thing’s for sure. Bay is an amazing cook.

I continue to just stare out over the amazing view, thinking of Bay. Thinking of her soft lips. The way she pushed into me during that kiss, like she wanted me to consume her. The way she lifted her chin up to reach my tall height.

She didn’t seem to hate the kiss, quite the opposite. So why then did she practically run away straight afterward? Why did she disappear in a whirlwind? What did I do wrong?

And why can’t I stop thinking about her?

I sit here, in my chair by the window for the next hour, and think about this strange girl who’s just entered my life but who’s taken complete control over it.

And then, after a whole hour, the doorbell rings, startling me from my thoughts. I get up and head to the door.

Who can this be?

I open it.

And, speak of the devil, there she is.

Bay. Standing there on my doorstep. With no kids.

And she’s holding some big bags. Shopping bags. Full of things I can’t see.

“Hi,” she says, smiling.

“Hello.”

I can tell what she’s thinking. It frightens me. Makes me nervous.

What’s she doing here?

I don’t understand what she’s done, or why she’s returned. Did she like the kiss or not? Could she not get it out of her head, like I’ve been unable to?

Could she not stop thinking about me, like I haven’t been able to do about her?

It’s only been an hour or so since she’s left, and now she’s returned, and I don’t know what this means.

“What’s all this?” I ask, nodding at the bags, but I might as well be asking what she’s doing back here.

Bay continues smiling as if she knows something I don’t. As if she’s got a hidden ace up her sleeve. “I’ve dropped off the kids back home. My brother’s back and he can take care of them, and then I drove by the hardware store.”

“The hardware store?”

That explains where the shopping bags have come from. But why?

“Well,” Bay says, peeking over my shoulder and into my house. “I was thinking you need some serious redecoration of this bachelor pad, it’s just too bare. It’s terrible. So, I’ve brought some paints and some brushes, and I was thinking we might as well start with the walls, and then we can move on to buying some furniture. How does that sound?”

I’m stunned into silence, but Bay doesn’t seem to care. She doesn’t wait for my response before she brushes past me into the hallway, leaving me to carry the shopping bags in.

She’s back.

In my house.

After the kiss.

Alone.

And it turns out she’s not just a chef, but also, apparently, an interior designer.

What’s going on?