An arranged marriage. An illicit affair. An unforgettable passion. A forbidden love...
A spoiled socialite clashes with a streetwise mechanic who challenges the order of her privileged life while an arranged marriage threatens even more.
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Something smelled good. Sweet, yet salty and buttery too. An aroma too thick to be a part of my dream.
My eyes fluttered open and I realized someone was in my house, cooking.
The only person with a key was my mother, but she wouldn't drop by like this. Unannounced to cook me breakfast.
As I sat up on my couch, it hit me.
Kennedy.
She hadn't left.
Still, in disbelief, I got up and crept down the hall to the kitchen. I wasn't prepared to see what was waiting for me when I got there.
Her hair was in a messy bun. Slightly disheveled from going to bed without a scarf. Standing at my stove barefoot, Kennedy was only wearing a T-shirt. My T-shirt. It hung heavy on her, but she didn't seem to mind as she kept at whatever she was doing.
I watched Kennedy at work for a moment longer before slipping away to get ready for the garage.
In my master bath, I discovered she'd found a new toothbrush I'd had stowed away in my medicine cabinet. She'd gone through my clothes, stolen a T-shirt, and had washed up here in my bathroom before going about preparing something in the kitchen.
I tried not to focus on the feminine intrusion in my home and went ahead with my morning routine. Thanks to Kennedy's cooking, I was running ahead of schedule, up early than my alarm for once, giving me a good forty minutes before I was due at work.
She was still there when I came out of my bedroom dressed to go in. I found her in the kitchen, sitting with her legs folded underneath her as she read from my copy of Night Changes. There was something so homey about the scene. Kennedy, undone, at my kitchen table, reading a book and drinking a glass of milk. Before her, was her leftover pancakes from Sonny's Kitchen. And across from her...
Kennedy had made me breakfast.
"Looks like someone just made themselves at home," I said as I made my presence known.
Startled, Kennedy looked up from her reading and offered me a timid smile. "Morning."
I inched closer, setting eyes on a plate of my pancakes from Sonny's as well as what looked like grilled cheese. I arched a brow, questioning Kennedy silently.
She shrugged. "Didn't want to leave without saying goodbye this time."
"So you cooked for me?" I pressed.
She blushed, gnawing on that lip of hers. "It's just grilled cheese."
"Just nothin', it's a thoughtful thing to do," I argued. "Thank you."
Kennedy eyed the grilled cheese absentmindedly. "I'd make a horrible wife. I can't really cook."
That brought me out of my fantasy, sling-shotting me right back into the reality of the situation.
