Chapter Fifteen
Jake
T he smell of soy sauce is pungent throughout the small kitchen. Steam rises high from the pan as I cook the stir fry for a few more minutes. After only taking twenty minutes to cook, the food is almost ready.
“That smells so good!” I hear Mia behind me. She moves in beside me to inspect the food.
I smirk. “Wait until you taste it.”
“I hope it tastes as good as it smells.”
“Believe me, it will,” I assure her.
Just a few minutes later, I dish out the contents of the pan into two large bowls. After that, I fill two stem glasses with pinot blanc.
“Dinner is ready,” I say as I set our food and drinks on the table. “Prepare to be amazed.”
She raises her glass. “To the weekend.”
“To…letting loose.” I clink my glass with hers.
Even though we’d planned this ahead of time, I have other motives for tonight. I need to get her to talk to me. And if I want her to do that, I’m hoping a few glasses of wine will get her to relax. Maybe that will get her to open up about her feelings. Maybe more.
A brief moment passes between us as we both take a sip of the wine. The fruity flavor is just what this dish needs.
“This wine is delicious,” she says with a moan.
“Glad to know my taste tester approves.” I smile.
“Not just approve. This slaps.”
What? “Slaps?”
“I mean it’s good. Excellent. Chef’s kiss.” She gestures with her hand like an Italian chef proclaiming his work is perfection.
“I can’t keep up with slang anymore.”
“How often are you on social media?”
“Not much. It’s not my thing.”
She looks surprised. “Do you at least have Facebook?”
“Yeah, since middle school. And I probably haven’t looked at it in…three years.”
“Wow. Talk about a dinosaur.” She giggles.
“I’m a millennial. I’m not that old.”
“Really? Then why don’t you have a TikTok?”
I shake my head. “That shit looks too complicated.”
“Exactly my point.”
I laugh. “Whatever.”
We dig into our food. I wait to watch her take the first bite of the chicken stir fry with vegetables before I dig into my bowl. Everything from the vegetables, down to the cilantro, is mixed into that dish. Normally, I wouldn’t dress it this much, but I’m looking to impress.
“Oh, my god,” she moans, which makes my cock stretch against my zipper. “This is amazing. It’s almost better than sex.”
“Almost?” I raise a brow. How badly I want to prove her wrong.
Not yet.
She waves me off. “You know what I mean.”
I chuckle. “So I’ve outdone myself.”
“If you cooked every night, I wouldn’t be mad about it.”
The more she eats, the more she moans. And the more she moans, the more I struggle to hold onto my restraint. Especially when my imagination is running wild with thoughts of driving her moans to screams of ecstasy.
“I’ll take that as a five-star review, especially if you’ll react like that every time.” I wink her way.
“You’re disgusting.” But she’s smiling as she says it.
“Why? I think it’s adorable that you moan when you eat.”
“You think it’s adorable?” The surprised look on her face tells me she doesn’t know what to think.
“Yeah.”
“You like that I moan when I eat?” she asks again as though she doesn’t quite believe me.
“Sure. It lets me know I haven’t lost my touch in the kitchen.”
Her amused look falters before she rights it again and rolls her eyes. You’re good, but not Gordon Ramsay good.”
“You’re breaking my heart, Ms. Knight,” I tease
“All in a day’s work,” she says before taking another bite.
“One of these days, I will blow your mind with my cooking.” If there’s anything she should know about me, it’s that I never back down from a challenge.
If she’ll let me, I’ll blow her mind in other ways, too.
She looks surprised. “Wait, you’re serious about the cooking?”
“If it’ll make you happy, yes.”
She gapes. “I was just kidding. You don’t have to cook for me.”
“I insist.”
“Really? You want to do that?”
If that means more one-on-one time with her and putting a smile on her face? “Absolutely”
She pauses, continuing to eat. “I didn’t think men liked to cook.”
I shrug. “Guess I’m the exception. I find it relaxing.”
“You’re the first guy I know who says that.”
“Just because not all of us do doesn’t mean we can’t.”
“Most straight guys I know wouldn’t touch so much as a spatula with a ten-foot pole.”
“Then they don’t understand what it means to cook for a woman.” I make direct eye contact with her.
There’s brief moment of silence as we stare at each other before she breaks both eye contact and silence. “I didn’t know you were so good at cooking.”
“I learned a lot through trial and error in my first year of college. During our sophomore year, when Jonathan and I first moved off campus, we found a house to rent. After settling in, I realized we didn’t have to live on microwave shit anymore, so I decided to get creative.”
“Jonathan never mentioned any of this. What type of dishes did you guys make?” She seems intrigued.
“Of course he didn’t. Probably because I did the cooking while he either watched or taste tested. I made anything and everything. I grilled steak and baked chicken. I even made fettuccini.”
“Wow. If I’d known you such a good cook, I would’ve asked you for advice. The best I can make is eggs and toast.”
“So that’s what you lived on? That’s sounds miserable. “Please tell me there was more to your diet.”
“Once I got over the culture shock, yes. I made friends with locals, and they introduced me to many different cuisines. Curry was a personal favorite for a while. It’s popular in the UK.”
“You like curry?”
She nods. “I grew quite attached to chicken tikka masala.”
“I can’t say I’ve had curry before, but that sounds good.”
“It is, I swear. You should’ve—” She stops herself as though she were about to say something she shouldn’t. She stiffens for a moment, then concentrates on the food in front of her.
Things fall quiet between us again, as though a large crowd in Grand Central Station suddenly went silent.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
She takes another bite of her food, taking her time to chew and swallow before replying. “Yeah. Great.”
I lean forward. “What were you about to say?”
She shakes her head, still refusing to look at me. “It’s nothing important.”
“Even if it’s not important, I’d still like to hear about it.”
“It’s not a big deal. Seriously.”
No doubt the more I keep pressing, the further she’ll push herself away from me. As much as I want her to tell me, she’s clearly not budging. I’m not sure why. Could this be one of the reasons why Kami told me to tread carefully?
In the interest of harmony, I revert the conversation back to cooking. “Anyway, I find cooking satisfying. Therapeutic, even.”
She seems to be grateful for my change in subject, because then she exhales, her body relaxing. “Wish I could say the same thing.”
Fifteen minutes later, we finish our food and the last of our win. I clear our plates and send Mia to the living room. She settles on the couch.
Once I’m done, I grab the opened bottle of wine. “Care for another?”
“Should I? I’m not usually a wine drinker,” she admits.
“Why not? It’s the weekend. It’s okay to imbibe more than usual.” I pour more liquid into her empty glass. “I’ll join you.”
“Okay.”
After filling both stems, I set the bottle back in the kitchen and sit beside her. Her feet are curled up beneath her.
“Thanks for cooking again.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’m glad you liked it.” I smile faintly. “How was your day?”
“Good. A little stressful but good,” she says before taking another long sip of her drink.
“How so?” I encourage her to drink more by taking another as well. She must be a lightweight because I notice her relaxing farther into the couch.
“There was more paperwork than expected. And it’s always hard when Jonathan isn’t in the office.”
“I know the feeling.” I’ve been humbled at how easy Jonathan and I have it when the work of one CEO is divided between the two of us.
“You must be under a lot of stress, too.”
“I am, but I’m managing. It could be worse.”
She shrugs. “That’s true.”
I take her hand in mine, testing the waters. “If you find yourself drowning, don’t hesitate to ask for help. My office is right next to yours.”
She takes another long sip of her drink, squeezing my hand. “That doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”
“Then it’s settled. But why don’t we just have a good time tonight?”
“Agreed. What should we do?”
There are a million things I’d rather be doing to her, specifically in my bed. But one step at a time. “How about a game?”
“What kind of game?”
What game can we play while she and I talk? A game that will get her more comfortable with opening up to me, especially if I ply her with more wine? Truth or dare? No. She’s too smart for that. No doubt she’ll choose dare just about every time.
And then an idea hits me. “I got it.”
“Do tell.”
“Have you played never have I ever?”
Mia finishes her second glass of wine with a frown. “Not since middle school.”
I shrug, more than happy to fill her wine glass once more. “Why not? It’s been years since we’ve seen each other. We should get to know each other again.”
She pauses. “When you put it like that, it makes sense. How should we start?”
Success!
In truth, I don’t care who goes first. No matter what, I intend to be fully honest. I’m just curious to see how she behaves. How she answers.
“Let’s flip a coin.” Digging into my pocket, I grab a quarter and pull it free. “Heads or tails?”
“Tails.”
I flip the coin, watching it land in my palm. “It’s tails.”
She takes another long sip. “Okay, I need to think.” She pauses. “Never have I ever…gone streaking.”
I chuckle before taking a sip from my glass.
She looks at me with total shock. “No! When?”
“It was part of our frat initiation in college. Not my choice.”
“That’s insane.”
“That’s college.” I think through the possible choices. Given that she’s started light, I probably should do the same. At least for now. “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”
She looks at me sheepishly before taking a sip of her wine. I can’t help but laugh. “When?”
“My sophomore year in college, on a dare.”
“What kind of dare?”
“The kind where I could win a hundred euros. Don’t recommend doing it in the dead of winter.”
“I would have loved to have seen that.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. Okay, moving on.” She pauses. “Never have I ever…slid into someone’s DMs.”
I take yet another sip.
She looks at me, puzzled. “I thought you said you didn’t have social media.”
“I don’t. The one time I did, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Turns out, the woman I wasn’t interested in wasn’t really a woman.”
“Oh, my god. You got catfished?”
“Yep, and never again. Okay, never have I ever used a fake ID.”
She shakes her head. “It’s legal to drink when you’re eighteen.”
“Lucky. In America, people can go to war at eighteen, but can’t drink until they’re twenty-one?”
“You’re preaching to the choir.” She cocks her head in thought. “Never have I ever…been called a player.”
This is one question I don’t hesitate to answer by gulping my drink. “If I had a nickel for every time someone called me that, I’d probably retire. So many woman I meet…that’s all they want.”
“Isn’t that a guy’s dream?”
“Why you’re young, dumb, and horny, sure. But eventually…doesn’t everyone want to be wanted for themselves?”
“And they don’t want you?”
“They just want to feel good in the moment. Once, that’s all I wanted, too.”
Mia won’t look at me. She seems uncomfortable. I laugh out of awkwardness. I must not be helping my case. Is that what she thinks of me? A player?
“I’m sorry. That just wasn’t an answer I expected.”
To do this right, I need to clear the air. “I admit I’ve slept with a lot of women, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want more than that out of life. There was a time where I thought I didn’t need love, and it didn’t need me. But things are different now. ”
I need her to understand that.
She opens her mouth to say something, then stops herself. “I think it’s your turn, right?”
I nod. “Never have I ever been in love.”
I wait with bated breath. Will she take a sip? Won’t she? If she does, who was—or is—she in love with? Regardless of her answer, I still want to pursue her. I also want to know, once and for all, how she feels about Vance.
She raises her glass to her lips, then hesitates. “What if you don’t know?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She shifts in her seat. “I don’t know what it feels like. Honestly? My love life has been complicated.”
“What do you mean?”
“What did you mean when you said, ‘things are different now?’”
Answering a question with a question. Did I just hit a nerve? I’ll have to revisit that later. As for her question, what do I have to lose? “Not too long ago, I found a reason to commit.”
“You met someone?” She looks almost crestfallen but does her best to mask it.
“You could say that. For a long time, I was in a situation where I couldn’t pursue her. Now that some time has passed, things are different.”
“How long have you known her?”
“A while.”
“Was she married? Is that why you couldn’t pursue her?”
“No. She was just…unavailable.”
“After all this time, what makes you think she won’t reject you?”
“She might. But deep down, I think she feels the same way. I just haven’t figured out a way to know if that’s true.”
“Why don’t you tell her how you feel?”
I could remind Mia the rules of the game, but I decide not to. Not when the conversation is getting where I want it to go. “It’s more complicated than that.”
She leans forward. “Wait, if you want to pursue this woman but haven’t been able to, why hold yourself back? Get it all out.”
“Admittedly, I’m afraid to hear her response.”
She leans back, sighing. “I know the feeling. I hate that my own emotions make me feel so helpless.”
“What would you do?”
She hesitates. “I’d like to say I’d just tell him how I feel, but I’m too chicken.”
“Do you like someone?” If she does, does she mean Vance? Or could she be thinking of me?
“Isn’t it my turn?” Again, she dodges my question. “Let’s just stick to the game, okay?”
I realize if I continue with my personal questions, she might shut down on me. And no amount of alcohol will change that.
Tread carefully. “Of course.”
“Never have I ever vomited after a roller-coaster ride?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t, but Jonathan has.”
“Seriously? My brother?”
“Oh, yeah. I tried to tell him not to mix nachos, a hot dog, and a soda with one of those spinning rides, but he did it anyway. Stubborn man.”
“Stubborn is the understatement of the century.” She giggles. “And serves him right.”
I smile. “Never have I ever had, or have, a favorite sibling.”
Without any hesitation, Mia takes a long sip of her drink.
“Mia Knight,” I chastise.
“Are you really that surprised?”
I shake my head. “No. Not really. Who is it?”
She looks at me incredulously. “I think you know.”
“Would I be right if I said Nathan?”
She pauses. “You said it, not me.”
“Is it because Jonathan constantly has his nose in your life?”
“Like a stick up my butt.”
I laugh. “Well, you wouldn’t be wrong.”
She tries to hold back a laugh, but fails. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Never have I ever regretted something.”
I take a sip of my now almost empty glass.
“What specifically?”
“A lot of things. Mainly losing opportunities I should have taken.”
Specifically with her.
But I’ve been busy making up for lost time. I just hope things work out the way I want them to. “What about you?”
“I’d have to say…liking somebody who didn’t like me back.”
“Why is that?”
She hesitates. “I found out the hard way my feelings were one-sided.”
“So he told you he didn’t like you? That’s harsh.”
She hesitates again. “Not directly.”
Not directly? “What do you mean?”
“I overheard him talking with his friends about me. It was…hard to hear.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Mia.” I sympathize.
She seems to be laughing to herself. “It’s funny.”
“What is?” I ask.
“The rest of the night I kept thinking, isn’t turning eighteen supposed to be fun and exciting?”
What stupid idiot broke her heart at eighteen, much less on her birthday? I wrack my brain about the possible perpetrators. It could be anyone, but I don’t remember her dating with anyone then. At least publicly. She didn’t date much as a teenager, now that I think back on the past. So who could she?—
Wait. Had she overheard him talking about her with his friends during her party? Could she be talking about me?
Holy shit.
“Mia.” I reach for her.
She shakes her head as though pushing a distant memory to the back of her mind. “It’s my turn again, right?”
“Mia.” I grab her hands in both of mine.
“W-what are you doing?” She’s obviously off guard.
Had I known sooner that she overheard me that night, I wouldn’t have waited this many years to tell her what I’m about to say. “I said those things on your birthday, baby girl, but it wasn’t for the reasons you think.”