Chapter Seven
The candlelight flickers across the table, illuminating the various dishes Bryce has been cooking all afternoon. I don't know what's got into him, but he decided we needed to have a date night, and who am I to complain? I'm not sure where he learned to cook, but he's good at it. And spending time with him is one of the main pleasures in my life.
"What is this?" I ask as I take a bite of something creamy and delicious.
"It's a twist on moussaka," he responds. "Good, right?"
"Mhmm. Very. I could have this as a main meal."
"We can some time, but I wanted to make a lot of different things," he explains.
I eye him suspiciously. What's he trying to distract the two of us from?
"It's good, but we're going to be eating this stuff for a week. Unless we're expecting someone else
