Luciana
I set the table, anxious to do something after Chase’s outburst. I wondered if the man had even really mourned the loss or had just lost his mind and shot anyone who spoke to him.
My throat felt like I had a golf ball stuck in it, and it refused to budge. He’d left the room, stormed out after his confession, so I’d gotten dressed and headed into the kitchen.
And nearly wept.
The counter.
The fridge.
The floor.
We’d basically had sex on every surface, near every object, and every single time I’d let go in his arms, I’d given him my soul, my heart.
No take-backs.
Had we met in another lifetime, we would have been the story people talked about on social media. Girl met boy. Girl fell for boy. Girl told boy she was going to marry him after the first date.
Boy fell for girl. Boy protected girl. Boy loved girl. Boy told girl he was going to marry her after their first introduction.
I closed my eyes against the onslaught of tears as our story continued in my imagination. I saw it all.
Us holding hands.
Laughter.
Awkward dates.
The kissing.
The sex.
Body sliding against body.
The proclamation.
A life together.
Something I’d done nothing but dream about for years, and the one guy I’d fallen for wouldn’t be here to share it with me. The man didn’t even realize that it doesn’t matter to me if he doesn’t have a heart to give.
Because I have a big enough heart for the both of us.
I finished setting the table then went about fixing a nice red sauce. Chase had so much pasta in his pantry I imagined it was the only food group acceptable to the rest of them.
I added ingredients and turned on the gas stove just as he walked in the kitchen, freshly showered. A white Henley covered his muscles, the tattoos on his right hand peeking out from the sleeves. His black ripped jeans hugged every muscle in his body making him look too good for words.
“Hey,” I croaked.
He didn’t respond, just took a few steps toward me and pulled me against his chest. I would miss this smell.
I wasn’t sure if it was cologne or just shower mixed with lotion, but he always smelled warm and spicy.
I sighed, clinging to him, feeling his muscles beneath his shirt.
He kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry.” His chest rumbled against my ear.
“Me too,” I said.
“You weren’t the one yelling.”
I stood up on my tiptoes and captured his mouth in mine. It felt so natural, kissing him in the kitchen, that I lost myself.
He pressed a hand to the counter and gripped my ass with the other just as someone let out a whistle.
“Vic, I swear I will—” Chase turned and then pulled away from me as if I were diseased.
Trace looked between the two of us then winked. “He get you pregnant with that kiss?”
Chase chucked a towel in her face while I relaxed a bit and smiled at her, and then panicked as I touched my stomach.
Chase frowned at me before turning around to the stove.
Pregnant.
We’d never talked about birth control.
I was on it.
But… we’d been having sex like crazy.
I pushed the thought away and joined him by the sauce.
The others slowly filed in.
Loudly.
They didn’t do quiet.
Lots of shouting, guns waving, wine bottles getting passed around.
Apparently, that was normal to them.
Chase at least looked happier than last time, until Nixon walked in the room and gave him a solemn look.
Once his back was to me, I lifted the spoon and tasted the sauce, made a face, then added a few more spices.
The room fell completely silent.
I turned to see every single individual staring at me slack-jawed.
“Did you…” Tex pointed at the stove. “…did you just… touch Chase’s food?”
“She’s in his workstation,” Sergio said under his breath, backing away.
“Don’t touch the food — that’s rule umber one.” Phoenix shook his head and tugged at his hair.
“Rule number two, don’t touch the damn food.” Dante crossed his bulky arms.
Even the women looked worried. Trace’s mouth was completely ajar as if I was about to get shot.
I crossed my arms and sighed. “It needed salt.”
They gasped in unison.
“It did?” Chase rounded the corner and winked.
It was like everyone in the room held their breath.
He pulled his gun.
I fought not to grin.
Then set it on the table and pulled me into his arms, kissing me softly on the mouth. “Thanks.”
“What. Just. Happened?” Tex asked the silent room. “Two years ago, I touched the sauce. Chase grabbed a fucking knife and chased me until I swore I would never — and I do mean never — touch his stove again.”
“She’s prettier than you.” Chase winked at me and then turned. “Plus, she went to culinary school for a few years. Knows her shit.”
“We get two cooks now?” Tex seemed to perk up.
And then Chase had to go and ruin it by adding, “Well, at least you’ll be left with one…”
The room fell silent.
I closed my eyes.
“That wasn’t awkward…” Tex nodded. “…not even a little bit. Good job, man.”
“Wine?” Sergio coughed and held up a bottle.
And every single person held out a glass, and if it wasn’t empty, chugged it before he made it to them.
Chase’s fingers brushed against mine as he handed me a goblet.
Food was served.
But I wasn’t hungry.
I was too upset over the fact that the clock was still ticking, and that Chase was letting it run.