Chapter 73
1245 Words
CHAPTER 73
ANGELA
By the time breakfast was finally ready, the kitchen looked like we had been fighting a war.
There were vegetables on the counter, a little sauce on the stove, and one unfortunate piece of toast that Damian insisted was still edible.
I looked at it.
“It is burnt.”
He picked it up.
“It has character.”
“It has charcoal.”
He laughed.
“You're becoming mean.”
“I learned from you.”
He put a hand over his chest.
“That's hurtful.”
“You'll survive.”
He smiled.
I sat down at the table while he brought the plates over.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
It was strange.
Not uncomfortable.
Just... different.
I had spent so many mornings alone that having someone across from me felt unfamiliar.
Damian sat down.
He pushed my plate slightly closer.
“Eat.”
“I can feed myself.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Because I like taking care of you.”
I looked at him.
He said it so casually that I didn't know what to do with it.
So I picked up my fork.
He smiled.
We ate.
Halfway through breakfast, he reached across and stole something from my plate.
I immediately looked at him.
“Did you just take my food?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Yours looked better.”
“You have the same thing.”
“That doesn't mean yours tastes the same.”
I pulled my plate closer.
“You're not getting anything else.”
He laughed.
“You're serious?”
“Yes.”
“Angela.”
“No.”
He reached for another piece.
I moved the plate away.
He laughed harder.
“You're actually protecting your food from me.”
“You started this.”
“I thought we were sharing.”
“We were.”
“Were?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head.
“Fine.”
I continued eating.
A few seconds later, I felt his foot touch mine under the table.
I looked up.
He was pretending nothing happened.
I moved my foot away.
He moved his again.
I stared at him.
He smiled.
“Damian.”
“What?”
“Stop.”
“I haven't done anything.”
“You're doing it now.”
He laughed.
I couldn't stop the smile that appeared on my face.
He noticed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That smile.”
I looked back at my food.
“You talk too much.”
“And you smile too little.”
I didn't answer.
After breakfast, we cleaned the kitchen together.
Damian insisted on washing the dishes.
I dried them.
It should have been simple.
It wasn't.
He deliberately splashed water at me.
I stared at the droplets on my shirt.
He froze.
“I didn't mean to.”
“You did.”
“I swear.”
I picked up the cloth beside me.
He took one step backward.
“Angela.”
I threw it at him.
He caught it.
Then he laughed.
“You're getting brave.”
“You started it.”
“I keep hearing that.”
“Because it's true.”
He dropped the cloth on the counter and walked toward me.
I stepped backward.
He stepped forward.
I stopped.
He smiled.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You're doing something.”
“I'm just walking.”
“You're too close.”
He stopped immediately.
The teasing disappeared from his face.
“Sorry.”
I looked at him.
He gave me enough space without making it awkward.
That was Damian.
He could tease me endlessly, but the moment I set a boundary, he respected it.
I appreciated that more than I said.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
He nodded.
“Always.”
The word settled between us.
I looked around the kitchen.
It was still messy.
There was still food on the counter.
And somehow, I didn't mind.
Damian walked past me and picked up the last plate.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“Living room.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to spend the rest of the morning doing absolutely nothing.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You always have something to do.”
“Not today.”
He held out his hand.
I looked at it.
Then took it.
We walked into the sitting room.
He dropped onto the sofa and pulled me down beside him.
I laughed when he immediately wrapped an arm around me.
“You're comfortable.”
“Very.”
“You're using me as a pillow.”
“You're warm.”
“You're impossible.”
“And yet you're still here.”
I looked at him.
That sentence again.
But this time, I didn't feel the need to answer.
I simply rested my head against his shoulder.
His fingers moved slowly along my arm.
The television played in the background, but neither of us was paying much attention.
After a while, Damian spoke.
“Do you know what I was thinking about while we were cooking?”
“What?”
“That I could get used to this.”
I lifted my head.
“You already said that.”
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“I meant it.”
I stayed quiet.
He continued.
“I've spent most of my life chasing something. More money. More success. More control. Bigger deals. Bigger responsibilities.”
He paused.
“But sitting in that kitchen with you made all of that feel less important.”
I watched him.
“I don't want my whole life to be meetings and decisions anymore.”
His thumb brushed over my hand.
“I want a home.”
I swallowed.
“A real home.”
He looked toward the television.
“Something peaceful. Something ours.”
I didn't speak.
“I want to come home and know that the person I love is there.”
My chest tightened at the word.
Love.
He said it so naturally.
Like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“I want ordinary days,” he continued. “Grocery shopping. Cooking badly. Arguing about what to watch. You stealing the blanket.”
“I wouldn't steal your blanket.”
“You would.”
“I wouldn't.”
“You absolutely would.”
I smiled.
He looked at me.
“See?”
“What?”
“That smile.”
I shook my head.
He squeezed my hand.
“I want this forever, Angela.”
I looked down at our joined hands.
Forever was a big word.
Too big for me to answer.
So I gave him the only honest thing I could.
“I like this.”
He looked at me.
“I know.”
“And I like being with you.”
His expression softened.
“I know that too.”
I looked back at the television.
He didn't ask me to say more.
He didn't demand a promise.
He simply pulled me closer.
And for the first time, I allowed myself to wonder what forever with Damian might actually look like.
Not because I was ready to promise it.
I wasn't.
But because, sitting there in his arms on an ordinary morning, the thought didn't frighten me.
It only felt unfamiliar.
And somehow, that was enough.
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