Running To Him - Forbidden Hearts Series Book 6

12| Untalkable Topics

I didn't know what to expect as I walked down the flight of stairs that separated Ollie's room from mine. He didn't ask me for any dinner ideas when he basically blackmailed me into this. 

Okay, that was probably a little harsh. But I wasn't overly thrilled about having dinner with him. And it wasn't because it was Ollie. I didn't want to have dinner with anyone. The whole point of running away from New York was to be alone. Now, not only wasn't I alone, but I was renting a loft in a warehouse with the one person who could probably—and would most likely—make me face the tragic truth of my grief when he found out what happened.

No way was I ready for that. For any of it. 

The closer I got to the kitchen though, the better it smelled. My stomach grumbled, making me realize that Ollie may have had a point earlier when he said that I wasn't eating enough. I couldn't remember the last time I had a real meal. Something other than Danish and coffee. 

And that wasn't including Ollie's surprise breakfast today. 

When I turned the corner that led to the kitchen, I froze. Ollie was in front of the stove with his back to me. He was wearing a black t-shirt that fit way too perfectly and a pair of dark denim jeans. He reached to the right and traced his finger over the page of a recipe book, his shirt tightening over his broad shoulders from the movement. 

I shouldn't be here. Uh-uh. Nope. Just as I went to turn around and leave, he caught me. 

"Hey. You're right on time."

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I cleared my throat awkwardly and gestured to the pot on the stove. "Smells good. What are you, uh, making?"

He shrugged and smiled in a way that made me think he was actually a little nervous about this whole dinner thing. "Well, I told you before that I'm not that much of a cook. But I can follow recipe." I walked further into the kitchen when he waved me over to stand next to him. He lifted the lid of the pot, and the delicious aroma hit my nose once again. "It's Coq Au Vin. The recipe called for mushrooms, but I remembered you were allergic, so I left them out. But it should still be—"

"Wait," I said, interrupting him. "I told you that I was allergic to mushrooms so long ago. Before Harper's wedding. You remember that?" 

With a small smile, his gaze dropped from mine as he stirred the contents of the pot. "I remember everything, Jamie."

Mayday. Mayday. We needed to change the subject immediately. "I'll set the table." 

Running away once again from untalkable topics, I looked through the kitchen cabinets before I found the plates and silverware. Next were the wine glasses—because let's face it, Ollie loved wine just as much as I did. 

"Do you have a corkscrew?" I asked him from the table. 

"Yeah. I'll get it." 

He retrieved it from one of the drawers. I expected him to bring it over and hand it to me, but instead he uncorked the wine bottle himself before filling both of our glasses. With nothing else left for me to do, I sat at the table while he finished cooking the meal. 

"Be careful," he said softly, scooping some of it onto my plate. "It's hot." 

"Thanks." 

After portioning some for himself, he sat in the chair to the left of me and held up his wine glass. "I think this dinner calls for a toast." 

Even though my heart was beating like a jackhammer in my chest, I raised my glass. "What are we toasting to?"

A corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile. "L'eau fait pleurer, le vin fait chanter."