A firm believer in "Exes can be friends," Chassie Lewis has proven everyone thinking otherwise wrong. For almost four years now, she's been happily divorced from her ex-husband, Nathaniel Forester. The sparks had flown and crashed between them a lon...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chassie George
Nathan woke up half past nine, so I ended up preheating another soup. I called my mom and asked her how to make a chicken soup. However, she offered to come over and make it herself instead. She said it was the least she can do, but I have a feeling she doesn't trust me cooking in Nathan's kitchen. Or anyone's kitchen for that matter.
I hear the shower running and by the time it shut off, I was in the middle of ladling the soup to a bowl. I set it on the table.
He comes, shuffling his way in, phone in hand. His hair is a wet mess and his eyes gone round when he sees the steaming soup on the table.
"Good morning, sleepyhead." I beamed.
Nathan blinks, disbelief in his eyes. "You made that?"
"Actually, that's not a term I would use. It's more like, I preheated." I pull a chair for him and gesture him to take a seat. "I know your appetite is still off, but you need to eat."
He slowly descended to his seat and picks up the spoon. "What exactly is this soup?"
"Don't worry. It's edible. Mom made it."
His head snapped to me. "You called her?" He sounded embarrassed.
"Yes. It's either that or you're eating one of my greatest inventions." I walk around the table and sat across from him. "I was thinking I could boil a raw chicken and it'll be a chicken soup then."
Nathan laughs softly. "That's reasonable enough."
I glided my eyes over him. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a T-shirt that strains across a well muscled chest. Annndd, I had to stop myself there.
He typed quickly on his phone then set it down next to his bowl of soup. "I'm sorry. I'm out dying for two days and my job doesn't relent."
"Hey, at least one of us has a job." I grinned.
He shot me a look. "Which wouldn't have to be the case if a particular someone agreed I take a time off to keep her company."
"Well, she doesn't want to be burden."
He snorted. "Burden? Tell her she's actually doing him a favor. I need a little vacation too."
I giggled at that. "How are you?"
He takes one sip of the soup. "I feel like death is no longer knocking at my door. So, I think that means 'better.'"
I nod. "And I'm the happiest person to hear that."
Nathan expelled a laugh. He submerges the spoon to the bowl, staring. The sun flooded the kitchen so it's accurate to say he's openly skimming me over in broad daylight.
"Is there something wrong with the soup?" I hid my discomfort underneath a teasing smile. "I swear, if there's anything I contributed to the making of that soup, it's just my stirring."
