Page 24 of Venomous Throne

With a nod, as if that was settled, he pushed past me and walked into the kitchen. I had to snatch the flowers he dropped.

“Hey, excuse me!” I protested, spinning after him.

Jaxon set down the other items he carried. A bakery box, the blue and white branding one I was all too familiar with, and a bottle of wine. Not just any bottle. A rosé. Fleurs. Exactly like the half-drunk one in the fridge.

“What are those?” I pointed.

Jaxon did that thing where he studied me. The long, lingering look that tried to peel back the layers. “It is customary to bring gifts to someone’s house. Especially when that someone helped with an emergency situation.”

The wheels in my mind screeched to a halt. “Okay, fine. That’s true. But how did you know I liked those things?”

Jaxon looked between me and the gifts as though my question were utterly ridiculous.

Maybe it was. Maybe I was reading into the situation too much.

“That’s my favorite brand of wine,” I added, trying to get him to see how surprising this was.

“I know. You had it at the grocery store.”

Pop went the conspiracy theory balloon in my head. All the small details I tried to connect, when really the explanation was the simplest in the world. He’d been observant. That was it.

“And that?” I pointed feebly to the bakery box.

“Cheesecake.”

“From Cinotti’s?”

“Yes. They are a local bakery, known for their fine artisan work.”

It was as if he were reading from a script. That deep bass rumbling over the words in a monotone without inflection.

I was being silly. Cinotti’s was the best, and it made complete sense that he would grab something from there. Cheesecake was a good guess. I shouldn’t be reading into this.

Except that I adored their cheesecake.

I ate too many of them now that my control freak of a husband was dead, and my caloric intake wasn’t a hot topic of debate.

“Thank you,” I breathed, and let my suspicions take flight.

“You’re welcome.”

He stood there.

As far as apologies went, this was the strangest. And something told me it might just be the first he’d ever given.

I moved to the cupboard and took out two plates, two cups, and then moved to the drawer for two spoons. The yellow list stared accusingly from its hiding place, but I shut the drawer and ignored it.

“What are you doing?” Jaxon asked. His big hands spread over the countertop, bracing his weight. It was a wonder he didn’t crack the marble.

“I’m not going to let the cheesecake just sit there. It would be a crime not to enjoy it.” I cut it in half, then into smaller pieces.

I pushed one toward him.

His brows, the color of bronze, knit together. But he picked up his fork and poked at the cake. Not wanting him to feel self-conscious, I didn’t stare as I dug into my own. But I watched him. Watched him take a small scoop. Bring it to that hard mouth. Place it on his tongue.

It was like seeing a kid on Christmas morning.

His face brightened. “That’s good.”