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“Well, what’s the point of all of this, if not? We’re just going to keep this all a big secret? If she’s madly in love with me, she’ll want us to actually be together, right?”

She takes a deep breath and then blows it out. Does it bother her to think about me with someone else? That makes sense. But there’s no guarantee I’ll have a single feeling for this other woman if and when I figure out who she is.

“Yeah, I guess it would be crazy to think she could keep this under wraps for good.”

I nod. “So I’m worried about her choices, but I also figure we might as well just get to the inevitable end point.”

“Right. The inevitable end point,” she repeats, her voice sounding a little…off.

I frown slightly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just worried about her now too,” she says with a little smile.

“You are?”

“Yeah. Because you’re probably going to break her heart. Whoever she is.”

CHAPTER 6

SUTTON

Is he onto me?

The pans, the double casseroles, the cinnamon rolls.

The talk about how maybe she wants him to figure out who she is.

But he’s not asking. He’s not calling me out.

And he actually seems concerned for this woman—how freaking nice is that?—and like he’s confused about what’s going on.

Well, he’s very stalkable, that’s what’s going on.

Oh, and Brewser got me into this without thinking any of this through.

There is no end point. No exit strategy. I will have to keep making casseroles and writing notes until one of us dies.

Or until Lawson gets a girlfriend.

Ugh, I hope I die before he gets a girlfriend.

Because not only do I not want to see Lawson Landry with another woman, now that I’ve seen him lick icing off his big, thick, calloused index finger, and moan about it, I never want to stop cooking for him. Ever.

And that’s not some trad-wife-stick-me-in-your-kitchen-barefoot-and-pregnant thing. That’s just a me thing.

I always get a little rush from helping people and making them happy, and seeing Lawson Landry close his eyes in bliss as he tastes something I created in my kitchen—my happy place—while sitting at the table I painted myself, where I sit and journal every morning…

I’m never getting over this.

I will not stop cooking for him and Brewser.

I don’t care if I have to start wearing a ski mask and sneaking in at midnight because he’s putting stupid cameras up. Brewser will leave the door unlocked for me. Or he’ll make me a key.

Because I absolutely can not get caught. Because, as I told Lawson, if he figures out who this woman is, he’ll break her heart.

I do not want Lawson to break my heart.

So it’s going to keep happening, in secret, and I’m going to think about that look on Lawson’s face and that sound he made every damned day forever.