James scowled. "Can't you make me another portion?"
Clara chuckled. "It's not that I won't make you any. You're used to gourmet food—you wouldn't like this. Trust me, just order takeout."
She set the ravioli on the table and turned to prepare the dipping sauce, pouring an excessive amount of vinegar—lately she'd been craving sour flavors like crazy.
*Probably the little troublemaker in my belly acting up,* Clara thought with a blissful smile.
James stalked out of the kitchen, his expression thunderous. After changing into casual clothes, he pulled out his phone to order food—but seriously, what kind of nonsense was this?
Since when did she get to decide whether he ate her cooking or not?!
Just yesterday, he'd stayed overnight at Lance's place for her sake, not sleeping a wink. And to
