Chapter 3 #3
Silence followed my confession, and I couldn’t summon the courage to meet her gaze. I felt raw and exposed, and I didn’t want her to see more in my eyes than I had already laid bare.
“My mom was an amazing cook,” she said softly.
“It was ingrained in her at a young age by her mother and grandmother. They passed down their recipes and stories through cooking. When I was old enough, she started teaching me. I’ve only been to Puerto Rico once when I was little, but I feel like I know my family better than I should after a single visit because of everything she shared with me.
” She smiled softly and looked down to where she picked at her nails.
“After she passed away, our cook took over helping me with whatever I needed in the kitchen.” Another soft laugh.
“When we hired her, my mom made my dad promise they would hire a Puerto Rican woman because, while my mom was a good cook, she didn’t have the time to cook very often.
So, she wanted me to grow up knowing true Puerto Rican flavors. ”
“She sounds amazing.”
Just like me, her smile faltered before agreeing. “She was.”
“How did she die?”
“She had heart complications caused by lupus.”
“I’m sorry,” I said more sincerely than I ever had to anyone else.
“Thank you.”
This time, when silence fell, I was the one watching her, sneaking glances between draining the pasta and stirring the sauce.
I studied the way she rolled her full lips between her teeth.
The way her brows pinched and relaxed as if unsure of how to react to the quiet.
The way her hands fidgeted before flattening on the gleaming white quartz countertop.
When I noticed her chest rise and fall with a deep breath, shoulders drawn back, I forced my attention back to the pots, already anticipating that tilt of her chin—strong and regal as always—and not wanting her to catch me watching.
“This is very domesticated of you. Having dinner almost ready when I come home,” she said with a teasing lilt.
“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” I bragged and winked, earning me an eye roll.
“Lucky me. As long as you don’t expect me to have dinner waiting for you when you get home,” she joked.
“I mean, you are the one who’s apparently a good cook.” She raised her brow, challenging my response. “But I would never expect you to cook for me. That’s why I have a delivery service on call. Otherwise, I would starve.”
“Thank goodness, because despite my mom’s efforts, I’m not the best at cooking. I’m decent and rely on Dolores, our cook, to supply my addiction.”
I hummed, understanding.
“I just…” she hesitated. “I didn’t know if cooking for each other was part of your idea of a real marriage without actually being a real marriage.”
I snorted. “Hardly. As I said before, our marriage is more of a partnership.”
She shrugged. “I guess I’m still struggling to understand your meaning. Because when I think of a real marriage, of course, I think of it as a partnership. But I also think of respect, love, an—”
“Let me stop you there.” I held up my hand. “As I’ve stated before, this has nothing to do with love.”
“But what is a marriage based on love, if not partnership and respect?” she asked, her hands splayed across the countertop, her expression painfully earnest.
I took a deep breath and considered my words. She wasn’t wrong, but she also wasn’t right. I wanted the constant of a real marriage without the vulnerability of loving someone so completely, and I searched for a way to explain that without saying it.
“This is a real marriage in the ways that matter. We fuck, we respect, we trust. We will be each other’s dates to save ourselves from lonely work events.
” She rolled her eyes, but I continued, struggling to find the right words.
“We…take care of each other as…friends would. However, when you love your partner, there is a certain desire—a craving to have that person. As if you couldn’t survive without them by your side.
Like you would do anything in your power just to see them smile.
I want you as my date. I want to make you come every way possible.
I want you to be my wife.” I held her stare, ensuring she heard every word.
Especially this last bit. “But I would be fine if I couldn’t have you as any of those things.
I will never crave anyone like that again. ”
“Oh…” Her shoulders dropped, and she blinked, absorbing my explanation.
“So, do you understand?”
“Yeah. I guess I do,” she said, her lips pulling down.
“Don’t look so sad, princess. Most of the time, that kind of love is fleeting or a lie altogether,” I admitted, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone.
I’d thought I’d had that love with Daria, and as I said, it’d all been a lie.
“This kind of marriage has all the benefits without any of the expectations. Expectations are what fuck marriages up.”
She nodded but didn’t get a chance to respond before the timer on the oven went off.
“Dinner’s ready,” I announced. “Why don’t you go get us a bottle of wine while I serve?”
She scooted off the stool and went to the wine fridge, pausing when she opened the freshly stocked shelf. “Oh, wow,” she murmured.
“What?” I peered over my shoulder as I got plates, noticing which rack she pulled out. “Yeah, I just got those.”
“Th-these are my favorites.”
When I bought them, I thought nothing of it, but now, watching her look through them, tension crawled down my neck and around my shoulders.
“Yes. I remembered what you ordered at our dinner meetings, and I asked the sommelier for similar recommendations. I figured you might like having your own selection now that you’ve moved in. ”
I refused to turn around in the ensuing silence, instead focusing on twisting the pasta into a neat circle, spooning a small portion of sauce, and topping it with chicken nuggets.
“Thank you.” She finally spoke, freeing me from the torment of wondering if she’d read more into the gesture than I’d intended—and from the even stranger torment of wondering why I’d done it at all.
“It was nothing.”
Without another word, she rounded the island back to her seat, passing me the bottle with one of the softest smiles she’d ever given me—igniting a slow, delicious warmth that spread through me from the inside out.
Furrowing my brow, I looked away and reminded myself…
It was nothing.