Page 66 of Shattered

“Axel—”

“What? We’re making up for lost time.”

“You are impossible!”

“Touché.” His lips were curved in that devious, impossible charming smile and I knew I was gone. I was completely gone for him.

Two weeks later, it was becoming a routine. I woke up in Axel’s bed to the smell of something incredible coming from the kitchen.

I found him standing at the stove, shirtless, cooking something that made my mouth water just from the smell. His hair was messy from sleep—or from my hands the night before. Probably both.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Your favorite.”

I moved closer. The dish looked perfect. Like it had come straight from the restaurant kitchen. “How do you know how to make this?”

He didn’t look at me. Just kept stirring. “I might have watched some videos.”

“What kind of videos?”

“Just cooking videos.”

“Axel.”

He sighed. Set down the spoon. “Old videos from Hector’s cooking show years ago. I might have watched all forty-two episodes.”

I started laughing. Couldn’t help it. “You watched forty-two episodes of cooking shows to learn how to make my favorite food?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds obsessive.”

“It is obsessive!”

“You said it was your favorite. I wanted to learn how to make it.” He looked at me finally. “Is that weird?”

“It’s the sweetest, most ridiculously nerdy thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He pulled me against him. “I can work with that.”

We ate breakfast on his balcony. The city spread out below us, the morning sun making everything look gold. The food was perfect. Better than perfect. And watching Axel watch me eat it with that satisfied expression made me fall a little harder.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I replied too quickly.

“Tell me.”

“It will get into your head.” I said.

He grinned, “A lot of things have already gotten into my head. Try me.”

I swallowed a huge bite. “I’m thinking this tastes better than what the restaurant makes. Or maybe it’s because you made it,”

His smile could have powered up this whole building, “I made it with a lot of affection,”

I laughed at that “I can tell,”

More weeks passed, and everything was going perfectly. Maybe more than perfect.