16
I f o l l o w e d b e h i n d Woods as he headed toward the front door, still feeling the lingering weight of everything I’d just told him. I didn’t even mean to say all of that shit, but he didn’t flinch or look at me like I was broken.
He didn’t rush to change the subject like people usually did when things got too real. He just listened and held space for me and my mess. That man made it so damn easy to open up; it was almost scary. Nothing about this felt forced. Nothing about us felt hard. It just flowed.
When he opened the door, a blast of cold air swept in with the snowflakes, but it didn’t last long. Standing there was a clean-cut, brown-skinned man with a black chef’s coat, leather gloves, and a smile like he already knew he was about to throw down.
“Woods?” he asked, holding onto an extra-large suitcase and a large canvas bag over one shoulder.
“What’s good?” Woods said, dapping him up.
The man nodded at me. “I’m Chef Cory. I’ll be takin’ care of y’all this evenin’.”
“Bet. Come on in.” As soon as he stepped inside, my stomach growled loud as hell. Woods turned to look at me, grinning. “Damn, baby. That shit came from your soul.”
I covered my face. “Shut up.”
Chef Cory laughed. “That means I’m right on time.” In the kitchen, he started unpacking ingredients while glancing around. “Y’all got a nice setup here.”
Everything in the cabin felt like a luxury winter escape ad. And this man went and hired a damn chef. Sitting at the island, I glanced over at Woods, who was already pulling up a stool and setting the mood. He tapped his phone screen and connected to the Bluetooth speakers. A few seconds later, Donell Jones’ “This Luv” floated through the space like it had been waiting on cue.
“Okay…” I said, swaying a little. “A little R&B Christmas dinner vibe?” He looked over at me with that low smirk with those damn dimples popping. I smiled and sat across from him, resting my chin on my hand. “So what exactly is he making?”
Woods leaned back and nodded toward the chef, who was already moving like it was his home kitchen. “Appetizer is garlic shrimp in a white wine butter sauce. Dinner’s filet mignon and truffle pasta. And for dessert, some cheesecake.”
Before I could respond, my phone started ringing.
Shit. I hesitated for a second, knowing damn well I was supposed to call her back. I slid my finger across the screen and answered with a bit of guilt in my voice. “Hey, girl…”
She didn’t even say hello. Her face popped up on FaceTime with a ‘bitch, really?’ look already loaded. “Ohhh, so you are alive? What happened to callin’ me back? I got real drama right now, bitch!”
I winced. “I know, I know… I meant to call you back yesterday. Things got—”
“Got good, clearly,” Taj cut in, squinting like she was adjusting her vision. “Where the hell you at? That don’t look like your kitchen.” Shaking my head, I flipped the camera, and she damn near hollered. “Not you pullin’ up in her city! Cuzzo really locked that thang the fuck down!
Woods looked up mid-roll with a lazy grin. “What’s up, Taj?”
Her whole neck whipped. “Y’all ain’t slick! What y’all done got a rental somewhere low key, huh?”
“Yes,” I replied, flipping the camera again to show the chef hard at work. The kitchen smelled amazing.
“Uh uh!” Taj exclaimed, popping her lips. “Cuz, you got a whole private chef in the kitchen. Autumn, you letting this nigga put you in a chokehold?”
Woods let out a deep laugh and sparked his blunt as I muttered, “It’s a soft choke.”
Taj gasped. “Wowwww! You know what? I ain’t even mad ‘cause I knew it. I knew y’all wasn’t done.” Chef Cory stirred something that smelled like garlic, butter, and sex appeal, then glanced up and nodded politely. “Okay, period. So, who’s Chef Zaddy back there? Sir, do you like women wit’ attitude and two badass kids?”
Woods coughed from laughing too hard, and I was cracking up too. Chef turned around, amused. “Depends. You like a nigga wit’ a felon and a couple misdemeanors on his record?”
Taj hollered. “A fool! I like him already. Can he cook me dinner next?”
“Hell nah,” Woods said without missing a beat.
Taj mugged the screen. “First of all, nobody asked you. Second of all, Autumn, you up here bein’ wifed up while I’m stuck in the city lookin’ at DoorDash prices. Shit, I’m tryna get mine too!”
I snorted. “You need help. Seriously!”
The music shifted to H.E.R.’s “Christmas Time Is Here” in the background, smooth and vibey. Woods moved closer to me, exhaling smoke slowly before kissing my cheek.
Taj sucked her teeth. “Anyway, I’m happy for y’all asses but don’t think you off the hook. I want the full rundown later. Like, real details. Skin contact. Emotion. Nut count.”
“Bye, Taj,” I laughed, ending the call before she could say anything else reckless. “Your cousin is wild.”
Woods looked over at me, eyes low. “That’s your friend.”
Chef Cory finally turned toward us with a proud nod. “Appetizers are ready.”
I turned to see him carefully plating everything on a wide slate tray, white dishes lined with little garnishes, like we were in somebody’s fancy five-star restaurant. I licked my lips discreetly at the shrimp skewers glistening under a white wine butter sauce. The steam rose like an invitation straight to my soul.
“Damn,” I mumbled, stepping closer with wide eyes. “That’s for us?”
Chef Cory smirked. “All for y’all. First course.”
I didn’t wait to be polite. I grabbed one of the skewers and bit straight into a shrimp. The moan that escaped my mouth was pure filth and loud as hell. “Mmmph, shit… oh my God,” I gasped, covering my mouth. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Woods cracked up, dimples showcased while shaking his head like he’d seen enough. “Ayo. You out here moanin’ like that over shrimp?” he teased. “Sounds like I got competition now.”
I playfully smacked his arm, but was still chewing, cheeks warm. “You know what? Don’t do me. That shrimp has no business being this good. Where did you find him?”
Woods finished his shrimp off, licking his fingers. “Flew him in from Atlanta.”
I stopped mid-chew, shrimp halfway to my mouth. “Wait, what?”
He smirked like it wasn’t a big deal. “I said what I said.”
“You flew this man out just to cook for us?”
“Mhm. Chef, tell her what’s up, bro.”
Chef Cory chuckled under his breath while wiping down a cutting board. “Born and raised in Atlanta. When I was in the joint, I started cookin’ and shit. Turns out I’m pretty good at it. When I got out, I got my shit together. Got my own private clientele now of mostly wealthy Black families, couples, rappers, and shit like that.” His energy was calm, confident, but humble.
“Wow, that’s… that’s truly amazing,” I told him, genuinely impressed.
“Thank you, miss. Used to run a kitchen in Buckhead,” he continued while putting olive oil in the cast-iron skillet. “Now I keep it simple. Fly in, cook good food, keep the vibes right, then bounce. Meet good people, too. I love this shit.”
I blinked a few times and looked between the two of them. “You killed this shrimp,” I praised, taking another bite. “You sure you’re not a magician?”
Chef Cory laughed from the stove. “Nah, just good technique and fresh ingredients.” The smell of lemon zest and herbs floated in the air, making my stomach tighten all over again as I finished my shrimp. “Dinner comin’ up in about thirty,” he continued.
Woods leaned back in his seat, relaxed, eyeing me with a look that made my pussy thump. “I’m glad you enjoyin’ yourself, gorgeous.” Again, I felt that warmth in my chest that came with him doing shit I didn’t expect.
Not too long after, Chef Cory circled back around with the main course. “Tonight’s entrée is a truffle-parmesan pasta topped with a butter-basted filet mignon,” he said, sliding the plates in front of us. “You’ve also got a citrus-herb arugula salad on the side to balance it out.”
The smell alone made my mouth water.
“Y’all enjoy. I’m goin’ to start on the cheesecake,” he added, already heading to do his thing.
“‘Ppreciate you,” Woods said, giving him a nod while going into the ridge. He poured me some lemonade and more tequila for himself.
I looked down at the plate in front of me. “Okay… this man did not come to play.”
Woods cracked a slow grin, glass of tequila in one hand, laid back and chill. “You deserve to eat good.”
I didn’t even try to play coy. I picked up my fork and slid it through the pasta first, getting a full bite with a little of the filet tucked in. I don’t know if it was the pregnancy or if the man could really cook. “This is… ridiculous,” I said under my breath, shaking my head. Everything was rich and perfectly seasoned.
Woods took a bite and just nodded once, like, yeah. Then glanced my way and muttered, “Yeah. This shit is hittin’.”
I smirked, pressing my napkin to the corner of my mouth. “Okay, big dawg.” We laughed.
We talked while we ate, the sounds of our forks against the plates and the faint music still playing low in the background. At some point, the chef popped back out to say a quick goodbye, rolling his suitcase through the hallway.
“Cheesecake all set. Kitchen clean. Y’all be safe. Merry Christmas,” he said, nodding toward me before dapping Woods up.
“Good lookin’, bro,” Woods said. “I’ll hit your line.”
And just like that, it was just the two of us again. I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head, feeling full already. “It’s wild how much changes in a short time.”
“Not really,” he said, stabbing into the fillet on his plate. “Shit changes when it’s supposed to. God’s timin’.”
I looked up at him, curious. “You couldn’t picture yourself doing this or being this way with your ex?”
He paused for a moment, chewing slowly before setting his fork down. “Nah. Shits different wit’ you. And honestly, the only time I ever seen some shit like this was in movies. I didn’t grow up around love that lasted.”
His words lingered in the air. I didn’t interrupt. I just listened as I ate.
He went on, voice low but steady. “My pops was in and outta jail. Still is. Ma held shit together best she could for my brother and me. His ass don’t even come around. Still dealin’ wit’ trauma I went to therapy for, feel me?” I stayed quiet, heart heavy but open.
He glanced over at me. “So, wit’ Yohana… I loved her. Don’t get me wrong. But as I mentioned, God’s timin’ is everything. I couldn’t be what she wanted at that moment, and that eventually led me to you. I’m good wit’ knowin’ that.
Damn. I blinked a few times, trying to keep my emotions in check.
“That’s why I’m doin’ all this,” he added, motioning vaguely toward the cozy cabin around us. “Not just ‘cause it’s Christmas. Not just ‘cause you fine as hell, carryin’ my baby, and got me in a chokehold.” I laughed through my nose, covering my mouth again. “But because I wanna build somethin’ wit’ you, gorgeous. Ain’t no shortcuts wit’ me and you.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. Just nodded slowly as his words soaked in. Because it didn’t feel like a game, it didn’t feel forced. It felt honest… and real. “You’re really a rare breed,” I finally said. “I know this baby wasn’t exactly planned…”
“I did manifest that shit though.”
I chuckled. “…but… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
We finished off our plates while the music shifted into a slower R&B groove. Then, Woods stood up first, collecting both our plates like it was second nature. I sat there watching him move around the kitchen. He rinsed the dishes, loaded them in the dishwasher, wiped the counter down, and poured himself one last drink. The whole time, I rubbed my belly absentmindedly and watched him like I was seeing something unfold that I didn’t even realize I’d been waiting for.
“You good?” he asked, glancing over at me.
I nodded. “More than good.”
He gave me that look again. The one that always sat a little heavy. That look that said he saw right through me and didn’t plan on going anywhere. Then that slow-ass smirk crept across his face. “So, what you think? You tryna do dessert now or…?”
I looked toward the fridge where I knew cheesecake was waiting. “I mean…” I started, then paused.
Woods walked back over and stood behind my chair, leaning down, voice low in my ear. “’Cause I was gon’ say… I personally can skip the cheesecake and eat somethin’ else.”
I turned to look at him, already biting my lip, my eyes damn near rolling at how bold he said it. “I knew you would say something like that,” I muttered, trying to fight a smile.
He kissed the side of my neck, letting his lips linger. “You actin’ like that ain’t what you want.”
I let out a soft laugh, leaning back against him. “Mmm… I do. But I also want that cheesecake.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, then dropped his head and laughed, deep and amused. “Aight. I see what’s goin’ on.”
“What?”
He leaned in again, hands sliding over my shoulders. “This baby got you switchin’ up on me already.”
I smirked. “Never.”
He kissed the top of my head and reached for my hand. “Come on. I’ll feed you your cake… then you gon’ feed me mine.”
The way he said it sent heat through my whole body. But I played it cool, standing up slow and steady as I followed him.