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Drew nods. “My mom loved cooking, too. She’s the one who taught me. I’ve converted a lot of her recipes into healthier options.” He smiles to himself, obviously enjoying the memories of his mother.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

Drew’s gaze meets mine again. “Of course, shoot.”

“What happened to your parents? My dad mentioned they passed a while back.”

He sits back in his chair and takes a deep breath. “They were in a head-on collision with a semi truck. They were both killed instantly. I was barely twenty-three and Emily wasn’t even out of high school yet.”

He looks off into space, his eyes filled with pain like he’s remembering back to that day.

“I’m so sorry. That must’ve been awful.”

“Thank you.” His eyes come back to meet mine.

I bite my bottom lip and hesitate for a moment. “After losing them, how long did it take you to feel normal again?”

His hand comes up to rub his chin as he thinks about the question. “The thing about a loss like that is you’re never normal again.” He pauses and moves the food around his plate with his fork. “I think you get used to the new person you become after grief changes you, you know? You eventually become comfortable with who you are again, even though you’re not the same person you once were.”

I nod, taking in his words. “That makes sense. I’ve never heard anyone put it that way before.”

He glances up at me, his hazel eyes looking into mine. At this moment, I feel like we understand each other in a new way. We understand what it’s like to grieve and how that changes you. I feel seen by him in a way I’ve never felt before with anyone else.

Drew and I finish our meal in silence.

“So, there’s one more thing I want to show you, and it’s slightly more complicated, but I think you’ll like it.”

My shoulders slump. “Oh no, what is it?”

“Quiche.” He pauses, taking in my terrified expression. “The crust can be a learning curve, but the rest is easy. I swear. The best part is we can stick it in the refrigerator and it’ll be all ready to cook for breakfast tomorrow. It’s important to start the day with protein.”

“You look like you eat a lot of protein,” I mutter before I realize I’m saying it out loud.

He looks at me with a bemused expression.

“Really? Why do you say that?” His voice is serious, but there’s a wicked glimmer in his eyes.

I look down at my hands and begin to stammer. “Umm, I mean, you know… ha. You have muscles and stuff.”

“And stuff?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with hidden laughter.

“So let’s make that quiche!” I blurt a little too loudly while clapping my hands together.

“Perfect! Glad you’re so excited about it.” He stands from his seat and walks back into the kitchen. I follow behind him, feeling stupid for commenting on his muscles.

Drew pulls out the crust recipe and patiently walks me through the instructions. Once we have all the dry ingredients mixed together, he points to the softened butter and tells me to cut it into the dry ingredients.

“Cut it in?” I look up at him. “What does that even mean?”

“Grab two knives and scissor them like this.” He crisscrosses the knives.

“Umm, okay.” I cross the knives and cut the butter into the mixture effortlessly, turning it into a lumpy dough.

“Perfect! Now pull the dough out and knead it with your hands.”

I do what he says and am surprised how enjoyable the kneading process is. “This is surprisingly cathartic.”

“I told you you’d like it,” He says as he grabs the rolling pin and sprinkles a handful of flour on the countertop. “Now that the dough is smooth, roll it out into a 12-inch circle.”