“Are you hungry? You must be. I noticed you hardly ate anything in the cafeteria last night,” Tim observed as they walked hand-in-hand into his apartment’s small kitchen the next morning.
“I am, actually, now that you mention it. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I have this excellent recipe for omelets, if you’re interested.”
Sarah smiled at the memory he’d invoked. “Got you hooked on them, huh?”
“And how,” he agreed, pulling out ingredients. “But mine never taste as good as that first one you made me.”
She giggled, and the sound pierced his core. He abruptly set down the items he’d gathered up, moved around the counter, took her in his arms, and kissed her passionately.
“I missed that,” he murmured. “Hearing your voice. Hearing your giggle. Holding you close to me. I missed us.”
