Personal Chef

Chapter 68

After brunch, Shawn and I went to the local grocery store where we used to shop and got everything we needed for dinner. It made me a bit sad that I wouldn't be cooking for him again until my next day off. This was a cruel reminder that things would be different this time around. I wouldn't be spending my days with him now that I had my business. We'd be catching time together when we could.

Shawn must have been thinking about this, too, because as we made the chocolate cake, he suggested something.

"I think you should move back in."

I turned off the KitchenAid mixer and looked at him. "That's rushing things, don't you think?"

"Your lease must be ending soon since we broke up almost a year ago, so it makes sense. I have no doubts about the idea at all. If you are concerned it's too soon, we can wait. I just want you to know that I want you here," he said.

"It's not about not wanting to be here or doubting you want me," I said. "It's just that is was really hard to move out last time. It broke me to leave what had been our home. I'm a little scared of getting hurt again."

He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. "I can't promise you I won't hurt you ever again, but I'm going to try my hardest to prevent that. I love you so fucking much."

"And I love you."

"Chels, you're going to be at work all day. We are only going to have nights together. It'll just be easier if you're here. If you don't want to make it official, that's fine. Keep your place and move in when you're ready," he said.

I'd packed a small bag with several days worth of clothes when we were at my apartment, so it was clear I planned on staying over a few nights.

"Can we see how things go? I promise to decide before my lease runs out," I said.

"Sounds good. Take all the time you need. Now let's get that cake in the oven so that I can lick the bowl."

I cocked my head. "Are we talking the actual bowl or are you being dirty?"

"Do you even need to ask?" he replied with a smirk.

I quickly poured the batter in the three greased and floured layer pans and put them in the pre-heated oven.

"Which bowl are you licking first?" I asked as I hopped up on the counter.

Shawn looked from me to the mixing bowl and then back to me again. "I'm torn. Both are so fucking delicious."

"You'd better be kidding me," I warned.

"It's no contest. You know that," he said as he grabbed the remote and lowered the blinds.

I was impressed that he utilized the entire baking time as I laid sprawled on the kitchen island. When the timer went off, I was recovering from O number two.

While the cake layers cooled, we sat out on the patio and talked as we sipped mugs of hot tea. Later, we made the black bean enchiladas. To go with them, we made Spanish rice, which would be topped with scallions and cilantro. As the enchiladas and rice cooked, we frosted the cake. Shawn made at least a hundred dirty comments about frosting, and I told him that if he didn't stop, he'd be sorry. His fear of losing out on frosting fun was enough to put an end to his corny jokes.

Dinner was lovely in the most simple way. Sitting at the table eating a meal we'd prepared together was heavenly; I'd missed this so much over the past year. Food had brought us together, so there was something special about cooking and eating as a couple.

After dinner, we curled up on the couch and sipped red wine. Hours passed as we listened to music and enjoyed the contentment that being a couple again provided.