I was nervous as all hell. My stomach felt like it was on its fourth skydiving trip. It was exactly the feeling I had when I’d done it years ago. Stepping up to the edge of the plane was probably the scariest part, and then willing your body to jump was another experience entirely. But I remember that fear, the kind that made your stomach twirl and your body suddenly feel light as a feather. An anxiety that came from fear of the unknown. I had no idea how my skydiving experience was going to turn out, although of course I had clear hope that everything would work out okay and I’d still be able to move all four of my limbs.

As for tonight, I had zero idea of how the date was going to go. I could only hope that things would go well and that the night would reveal something between the both of us.

That’s what my romantic side was aching for me to believe. My other side—the more analytical side—pushed me toward the realization that I was looking at all this through rose-colored glasses. Sure we had a good connection, and our bodies clearly reacted for the other, but Zane was still holding up walls and I had no idea if I was the one meant to bring them down. He’d lost the man he loved in a way that still haunted him to this day. That was a hard cross to bear, and although I was more than willing to take on some of the weight, I knew it would all depend on if Zane was ready to share it.

My Alexa started ringing. The timer I’d set must have run out.

“Alexa, sto—” Shit, she didn’t hear her name. “Alexa, Alexa.” I moved closer to the flashing cylinder. “Ale—Oh my god. Alexa! Stop!” The damned thing stopped ringing. I rolled my eyes and walked into my kitchen. The smell of parmesan, ricotta, mozzarella cheese, and basil drifted out of the oven and filled the room, adding to the already delicious scent in the air.

I had been working in the kitchen for a couple of hours now, and I loved every second of it. I was running around, kneading dough on one flour-covered counter while hurrying over to another counter so I could prepare and cut vegetables. Another counter was dedicated to the meat. I used the sink in the island to wash things, while the space next to the sink was dedicated to the lasagna noodles. There were a couple of other stations for the salad and breads, which made me grateful for the fact that I had a kitchen big enough to accommodate it all. I remember being little and watching my grandma at work, utilizing every inch of space in her tiny kitchen, eventually having to use the tables in the shared yard to hold some of the bowls. I was always fascinated whenever she was in the kitchen. It was like watching a magic show every single time. Spices would fly like fairy dust in the air, while the old oven would shoot up a jet of flame every time it turned on, adding a little pyrotechnics to the show. I think that’s where I got my love of cooking because although my mamma enjoys it, she also wasn’t against ordering takeout more often than not. Which I didn’t mind growing up, because it meant I got to spend extra time in the kitchen when I convinced her I could whip up a better meal than Rachel’s Mediterranean Chicken next door.

Also, spoiler alert: Rachel wasn’t even Mediterranean. Shocker, I know.

I checked my watch. Zane was due any minute now. I opened the oven and checked my work.

“Perfetto,” I said to myself. The colors were all exactly how I wanted them, crisp and gold, meaning it was cooked to perfection. The oozing cheese and sizzling beef verified my suspicions. I slid on the blue silicone oven mitts and pulled the baking dish out, setting it on top of the oven so that it could cool. I admired my work for a moment. Lasagna was all about layers, and it looked like I nailed them. There were also some colorful sweet peppers thrown in for a crunch.

Two white plates sat on the counter next to the oven. I grabbed some marinara sauce and added a dab and a stroke on each corner of the plate, almost making it look like it was done with a paintbrush. I grabbed some parsley and set it on the top of the plate. I’d watched enough cooking shows to know that plating mattered almost as much as the actual food. I wanted to present something nice for Zane, something he was going to remember, aside from how great it tasted (because, let’s be real, we all know my lasagna tastes incredible).

“Alexa, what time is it?” I asked, wiping my forehead with a paper towel.

“I’m sorry. I’m not equipped to answer that question.”

“Jesus.” She must have not heard me right. “Alexa, what time is it?”

“It is currently 8:30 p.m.,” she said in her pleasant yet slightly unsettling voice.

And as if we’d rehearsed his cue, the doorbell rang throughout the house. I looked around the kitchen, happy that I was able to contain most of the mess, and then looked down at myself. Merde. I wasn’t exactly looking sharp. I had flour marks on the sides of my shirt and a dollop of marinara sauce right on my thigh.

“Great,” I said, hurrying to the sink. “He’s going to think I’m on my period.”

The doorbell rang once more, and the marinara stain was only getting worse. I thought of the second-best option: pulling my pants off and folding them up to throw into the laundry closet on my way to the front door. I considered opening the door in just my black Calvins, but I decided it may have been too much for a first date (even though all I wanted to do was hang out with Zane in our underwear… or out of them). So I grabbed a pair of gray running shorts from the closet and tugged them on, almost tripping down the hall.

“Zane!” I said, opening the door and opening my arms. Zane was standing there, looking dapper as hell in a casual navy sports jacket and a nice shirt tucked into a pair of dark skinny jeans that drew my eyes straight to the bulge in his crotch. “Sorry about my last-minute wardrobe malfunction,” I said as we hugged.

“That’s okay,” Zane said, stepping into my home. “I thought it was just a look you were going for.” He looked me up and down, a smirk breaking on those big lips of his. “The ‘sexy alcoholic just waking up from a bender and still looking hot’ kind of look.”

I threw darts at him through my eyes.

He chuckled and looked around. “Wow, your place is incredible.”

“Thank you,” I said, offering to take his jacket. He took it off and handed it over with a smile. I had a coat rack by the door, one that was gifted to me by one of my clients. It was definitely a conversation piece. It was made up of shed deer antlers, which was something I didn’t even know was a thing. But apparently deer shed their antlers like my mamma sheds her hair in my shower every time she comes to visit.

It helped that my interior-design style was already a little eclectic, kind of like Zane’s. He was now admiring a tall white marble bookshelf that held books and trinkets from all of my different travels. I walked over to stand next to him. Instantly, I was put into a trance from his scent alone. It was a cologne I didn’t recognize. A little sweet, but a lot of man. Spices and oak and sea salt.

“Where’s this from?” Zane was pointing at a small elephant carved out of brilliant jade, its bright and vibrant greens immediately drawing the eye.

“I went on a volunteer trip to Thailand a few years ago. Spent the summer helping a village with building projects, and I also held classes at night. Simple stuff at first, but some of them learned really fast. I was teaching some basic law concepts by the end of it.”

I was smiling, remembering my time in the village. It was difficult at first, adjusting to having almost zero electricity and having to shower outdoors, but it was an experience I’d never regret.

“They had two elephants in the village: Delilah and Erica. I grew close with Erica’s caretaker. He found this jade rock years ago, and he ended up carving Erica out of it and giving it to me as a gift on the day I left. He said it was a thank-you from the entire village.”

Zane looked from the elephant to me, his eyebrows drawn up. “That’s an incredible gift. I didn’t think—”

“I’d ever work for free? See, I’m full of surprises.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” Zane quirked his lips. “But since you said it.” He smiled and nudged his shoulder into me. It was a small gesture, but it might as well have knocked the earth off its axis. At least that’s how I felt. There was something so playful and at ease in the way things felt. There was absolutely zero tension or awkwardness in the air. It was almost like I was standing next to an old friend, reviving memories from years ago.

“What I was going to say is, I didn’t think you knew how to complete any manual labor.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” I deadpanned before breaking into a smile. It felt like a moment that would have been perfectly punctuated by a kiss. If it were any other guy, I would have gone for it. But with Zane, things were different. It felt like I was coaxing one of the rarest, flightiest birds in all the world. And the last thing I wanted was to spook him or scare him off. Nope. I wanted to grab this rare Amazonian Tweety Bird and never let go.

So, instead of the kiss, I turned and walked away. “Let me give you the grand tour,” I said, motioning toward the hallway that wound through the rest of the penthouse. “Or do you want to start upstairs?” I pointed toward the spiral staircase that led to the second floor.

“Let’s go with dealer’s choice.”

“All right, all right,” I said, nodding. “Follow me, we’ll do the first floor. I’ll keep the upstairs for the big climax.”

“Of the tour?”

“Right, yeah.”

“Gotcha,” Zane said, chuckling behind me as I led him through the foyer.

The nerves I’d been feeling earlier were dispersed the second I opened my door and laid eyes on Zane. A sense of ease had come over me. It was similar to coming home after a long day at school and getting a whiff of the addictive pastries your mom was making in the kitchen. It was a sense of comfort that told me it was all going to be all right. Tonight was going to go off without a hitch, even if everything had somehow managed to go wrong. Because it didn’t matter if the entire world was crashing down around us; I was pretty sure Zane and I would find a way to make a good time out of it.