Page 147 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“YouTube, mostly. My brother Dane gave me pointers.”

“Oh yeah, Edge. Duh. I forgot your brother owned that place. Why didn’t you just have him make the meal?”

“I wanted to do this myself. For you.”

Her expression softened. “Why?”

“Because this is what I want our life to look like.” I gestured around the room. “This. Us. Sitting down for dinner together. Talking about our days. Being present with each other instead of distracted by work or obligations. I want to choose you, Cleo. Every single time. For the rest of my life.”

She set down her fork. “Cash, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I took a deep breath. “I have a whole year ahead of me. A sabbatical. Time to figure out who I am outside of being Armand Bancroft’s son or a Bancroft Holdings executive. And I know what I want to do with it.”

“What?”

“Live. Actually live.” I squeezed her hand. “I want to travel. Not for business. For pleasure. I want to see places I’ve never been. Try things I’ve always been too busy for. Spend time with my family without feeling like I have to be on all the time.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“I want you to come with me. Not all the time. I know you have your business to build. But when you can. When you want to.” I brought her hand to my lips. “I want to cherish you the way you deserve to be cherished. Make you feel like you’re the most important thing in my life.”

“I feel like that already.”

“Good. Because you are.” I smiled. “But I’m going to keep proving it anyway.”

We ate slowly, talking between bites. The food was damn good. I surprised myself. And I was definitely going to give Dane shit. He made it seem like cooking was equivalent to playing in the NFL. If I could do it, I was pretty sure anyone could.

We finished dinner and I started clearing plates. Cleo immediately stood to help.

“Sit,” I said. “You’re my guest.”

“I’m your girlfriend. I can help with dishes.”

“Girlfriend,” I repeated, testing the word. “I like that.”

“Better than fake fiancée?”

“Infinitely better.”

She followed me into the kitchen despite my protests. I rinsed dishes and loaded the dishwasher while she rummaged around finding plastic wrap and storing leftovers.

She bent over to pull out a container and I couldn’t resist. Her bent-over form was too tempting. I moved behind her, pressing my body against hers, my hands finding her hips.

“What are you doing?” she asked, but I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Helping,” I murmured, my lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Is that a problem?”

She straightened, her back pressing against my chest, her head falling back onto my shoulder. “Not a problem. Just wondering if we’re going to get to dessert.”

“I thought this was dessert.” My hands slid around her waist, pulling her tighter against me.

“You’re insatiable,” she whispered as I kissed her neck.

“Only with you.”

She turned in my arms, her hands sliding up my chest to loop around my neck. Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. “The dishes can wait.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”