Chapter Twenty-Two
WARNING FEELINGS AHEAD
Kate
I’m stirring the sauce for the third time in five minutes, not because it needs it—but because I do. The kitchen smells like garlic and fresh herbs, the table’s set, the wine is breathing, and my heart is on the verge of jumping out of my chest.
“This is stupid, right?” I turn to Margot and Helen, who are already halfway through the first bottle of Pinot like this is just any other Thursday.
Margot leans against the kitchen counter, swirling the wine in her glass. “What’s stupid?”
“This.” I wave the wooden spoon in the air. “Me. Cooking for a man. Giddy like some teenager. I mean, look at me.”
Helen raises a brow. “You look great.”
“Great and desperate.”
Margot laughs. “Sweetheart, you’re not desperate, you’re glowing. Which, frankly, is kind of annoying.”
I groan and wipe my hands on a towel. “It’s just been so long. I don’t even remember how to be with a man. What if I’ve forgotten how to—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Helen cuts in, smirking.
Margot doesn’t miss a beat. “Honey, it’s like riding a bike.”
I gape at her. “Margot!”
She shrugs. “Am I wrong?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
Helen grins into her wine. “You love her for it.”
“I’m serious!” I lean against the counter, my nerves crawling under my skin. “Things are moving fast. We’ve been out a few times, and I feel like I barely know him, but also—like I’ve known him forever? Does that make any sense?”
“Actually, yeah,” Helen says quietly.
Margot nods. “When you’re older, you don’t waste time. You know what you want.”
“Do I?”
They both just look at me.
I sigh, heart thumping. “I really like him.”
Margot’s eyes gleam. “He should be here any minute.”
“Not helping.”
She grins, wicked. “We just need to meet him first. Make sure he’s worthy.”
“I’m still miffed I didn’t get a say in that.”
Helen clinks her glass with Margot’s. “Obviously.”
Before I can protest, there’s a knock at the door.
My heart stops.
Margot’s already up. “I’ll get it.”
“No—wait—” I rush to the door, smoothing my hair. “Behave.”
Margot winks. “Define behave.”
I shoot her a glare and open the door.
And there he is.
Jack.
Tall, calm, wearing a soft gray sweater and dark jeans, holding a bottle of wine like he doesn’t have any idea he’s just made my knees go weak.
“Hey,” he says, smiling.
“Hi.”
Margot’s already behind me. “Well, well, well. Look at you.”
Jack raises a brow, amused. “And you must be Margot.”
Helen appears at my side. “And I’m Helen. We’ve heard things.”
I groan. “Come in before they interrogate you in the doorway.”
Jack steps in, and suddenly the house feels smaller, warmer, and I’m not sure if it’s from the stove or the way he looks at me like I’m the only one here.
“Dinner smells amazing,” he says.
“Thanks. I was aiming for edible.”
He chuckles, eyes on mine.
Dear God, he’s cute.
Margot’s grinning like it’s Christmas. “So, Jack, what are your intentions with our girl here?”
Jack glances at me, then at them, totally unbothered. “Treat her well. Keep her laughing. Try not to screw it up.”
Helen whistles. “Smooth.”
Margot raises her glass. “Alright, you pass. For now.”
Jack laughs, handing me the wine. “This okay?”
“Perfect,” I breathe, realizing I’m still holding a dishtowel.
And for the first time tonight, the nerves start to fade.
Maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like.
Margot drains the last sip from her glass and claps her hands together. “Well, we’ll leave you lovebirds to it.”
Helen rises, stretching with a little groan. “Remember, if he gets too handsy, just yell ‘pineapple.’”
Margot winks. “Or don’t. No judgment.”
I roll my eyes, laughing. “Out. Both of you.”
Jack chuckles as he opens the door for them. “It was nice meeting you.”
Margot winks again. “Nice meeting you too, Jack. Don’t screw it up.”
He smiles, easy. “I’ll try not to.”
Once the door shuts behind them, the house goes quiet, but not in a bad way. Just... us.
I turn, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the way he’s watching me, the hum in the air, the wine still on the counter.
“Sorry about them,” I say, brushing my hands down my sides.
Jack steps closer, hands in his pockets, that calm energy wrapping around me. “Don’t be. They’re great.”
He stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since I got here,” he murmurs.
Before I can ask what, his hand slides around my waist, pulling me in, and his lips are on mine—soft but certain, like he’s been waiting for this just as long as I have.
I melt completely, my hands finding his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my fingertips.
When he pulls back, I’m breathless.
“Sorry,” he says, smiling. “I couldn’t wait.”
I shake my head, dizzy. “Don’t apologize.”
We stand there for a moment, just grinning like fools, before I manage to find my voice again. “Wine?”
He nods, stepping back just enough. “Please.”
I pour two glasses, handing him one, trying not to spill it with how my hands are still shaking a little. “Want the tour?”
“Sure. Lead the way.”
We wander through the house, stopping here and there—my favorite chair, the old bookcase I refuse to get rid of, the picture wall in the hallway. He listens, really listens, asking about little things most people wouldn’t notice.
Then we reach the living room.
I point to a framed photo on the mantel—me and Cole on a fishing trip two years ago.
Jack’s gaze lingers on Cole, something in his jaw tightening just for a second before he smooths it out.
“You okay?” I ask, frowning slightly.
He nods. “Yeah. Everything’s great.”
I smile softly.
Jack hums, setting his wine down. “Shall we eat?”
“Sure.”
We head to the kitchen and fix our plates—pasta, garlic bread, a simple salad—and carry them out to the back patio. The sun’s dipping low, casting everything in soft gold, and as we settle into the chairs, I realize I’m smiling again.