Morgan's POV
"Pasta from scratch?" Dante asked with a laugh.
"They've always wanted to make pasta from scratch so this is the perfect time." He smiled with a nod.
"Since they like it."
"Yeah." I whispered turning to leave just as he did, making us bump into each other. "Sorry." We both said, moving in the same direction again and bumping into each other, his hands stopping me from falling. When he pulled me up, our faces were barely an inch away from each other. His scent hit me hard — green apples and fresh laundry — and with it came the barrel of emotions and memories.
This morning. Imagining his arms around me. His voice in my ear, his lips on my skin.
Last night. As I sat in Winston's lap, and thought of him.
I remember the day I picked out this specific cologne for him. O
