Page 115 of The Need to Know

Ezekiel didn’t hold back. “You’re the takeout queen.”

“Is that why you cook for me? Because you don’t have to do all that,” I said.

Ezekiel made a face. “I know I don’t have to, I do it because I want to.”

Now that we were together, it was easy to notice more and more about each other. Ezekiel could cook, and while I knew the basics, I did like takeout. I worked more than Ezekiel, and longer shifts, something he recognized and soon alleviated by making me dinner some nights. And twice more, he came to the shop to take me out for lunch in exchange for Jonelle working my break.

This man treated me so damn good.

“Well, tonight I am cooking,” I announced.

“Good, we need you to cook more. I don’t know if I can trust you yet.”

I almost sat up at his words, completely caught off guard. “Huh?”

He peered over at me. “What if I’m sick and I need you to make me some homemade soup?”

“Why would I make you homemade soup when I can get a can?”

Ezekiel moved away from me, disapproval on his face. “Canned soup?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with Progresso?”

He put even more distance between us. “You won’t even make a man some homemade soup?”

“Zeke, we’re too advanced in technology for all this stone-age cooking. Come on, now.”

He shook his head. “Wow, you different.”

I knew he was playing, but a part of me felt guilty. “Would you make me soup?” I already knew the answer after knowing him for the short while I did.

“Hell yeah, we’d get you right.”

“Aww.” I reached out for a hug and pressed my chin to his chest. “I mean, I work every day so I do appreciate you cooking me food at the end of the night. I guess it would be fair to switch it up and cook on weekends. Right?”

Ezekiel shook his head, pushing me away. “Nah, that’s not what I’m trying to hear.”

“It’s not?”

“I need you to tell me right now that if I’m sick you’d make me homemade soup.”

“Oh my God.” I pretended to groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll make you homemade soup.”

He came and kissed my forehead. “Thank you.”

“I can use chicken broth, right?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, chicken broth, freshly baked and shredded chicken breasts, homegrown ultra-organic vegetables just for you⁠—”

Ezekiel snorted and shoved me. “See, now you doin’ too much tryna be cute.”

I laughed and hugged him closer. It was still too early, but already I loved us. Us.

We were in pajamas. Me in a T-shirt and shorts, and him in a T-shirt and pajama bottoms. He’d come over with an overnight bag and I liked that. It was scary how much I liked our weekends. How a tiny part of me was ready to just give him a key so that he could let himself in since he got off so late.

I wouldn’t bring it up, though. Ezekiel was the first and only man I’d ever been with who felt and seemed like a man. I was scared. Not ready to fall completely, and I didn’t want to do too much too fast and scare him away, or risk getting comfortable just for the rug to be pulled out from beneath me.