"And you made scalloped potatoes?" Easton said as he turned to the pan I had on the counter next to the stove.
"I'm starving, Jos, and I'll love you forever if you share," Easton said as he clutched his heart dramatically.
I wanted to ask him if his promise included loving me the same way I loved him, but we were going with small and simple. Declaring my love was neither small nor simple.
"Of course I'm sharing," I said with a huge grin, turning to Easton only long enough to let him see my smile. Then I went back to looking at the pan. I couldn't burn this steak, and I knew more than a second of looking at Easton could make me forget everything.
Easton dropped a kiss to my cheek, and I swore my face lit on fire. I was just glad the lighting in the kitchen was so low.
I fought the urge to rub my cheek and savor the contact, instead allowing my mind to linger on the memory of Easton's firm lips against my soft.
I finally pulled the meat off the heat and onto a waiting cutting board. I'd slice the steak as soon as it had rested for a few minutes.
"You look good, Jos," Easton said as he looked at me from head to foot and then back up again. Heat again crawled up my neck and onto my face as Easton's eyes lingered on my tight jeans. I'd gone with a casual look since we were at home, but I knew these jeans were the best I had as far as figure enhancing, and the silky, forest green button-up I wore did wonders for my hazel eyes—at least that's what a few of the first dates I'd worn this shirt for had said.
"Hot date tonight?" he added, and I shook my head.
If Easton only knew.
But what would he do if he knew? I wasn't sure. And that's what gave me so much trepidation when traversing this minefield. Easton was the person I knew better than any other. And I hated that I couldn't foresee what my feelings would mean to him, what they would do to us.
"Good. I don't want to share with anyone," Easton said.
Even though I knew he was talking about the steak and potatoes, my heart flipped that there could be further meaning to what he was saying ... at least one day. Maybe this plan could possibly work?
"Do you want to slice the steak while I get a salad together?" I asked because I couldn't say anything about his last comment without melting into a puddle on the spot.
Easton eagerly agreed because he knew slicing the steak meant the best spot for swiping samples of the dinner. So he took my place in front of the cutting board where I'd left the meat to rest, and I moved to the other side of the stove as I filled a salad bowl with some already washed lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and red onions.
"So ... how was work today?" I asked as Easton sliced. I didn't want to turn our attention to the day he’d spent with Priscilla, but I also couldn't ignore our usual vein of conversation: how we’d spent our time apart.
Before he answered, Easton generously offered me the first sample, and my heart sped up again as Easton fed me. One thing was for sure. I now believed Whit's adage that roommates make the best forever mates.
"It went well," Easton said after he had chewed his own piece of steak. "We spent a lot of time with the architect and things look really good. We're right on track."
As Easton used the word we twice in his explanation of his day, I was once again reminded of Priscilla and the fact that I was in the process of trying to steal away her fiancé. The reminder left me with more guilt than I would’ve liked. But I had loved Easton long before they’d fallen into their engagement, and was it even really an engagement? Following through with a marriage pact that they'd come up with ten years before? True love trumped that, right? I was almost positive Priscilla didn't love Easton. And I knew I was completely and irreparably in love with Easton. I had to fight for him.
The guilt dissipated as I focused on the man of my dreams.
Easton put the sliced steak on the two plates that I'd placed on the counter. He handed the plates to me so I could add salad and potatoes, and then I led him to the table we hardly ever used. We were more of the couch potato type at dinnertime, but I wanted a different feel than just our ordinary night-in, and the table would give us that. Easton didn't say anything before joining me at the table, so I guessed our sitting there didn't raise any of his suspicions. Good. I was going for subtly blowing him away with a romantic night. So far, so good.
"I'm liking all of the candles," Easton said as he looked around the room. "But does that mean you had a hard day at work?"
I loved that Easton knew that typically it was only after I'd had a hard day that I lit all of the candles before taking a long bath. But I just shook my head because I wasn't ready to tell him that I hadn't gone to work that day. He knew how rare a personal day was for me, so if I told him the truth, he'd understand that this meal hadn't just come together. And I wasn't ready to reveal my plan just yet.
After a quick blessing on the food—I noticed Easton's prayers were short when he was looking forward to a meal—we dug in. I couldn't help but smile when Easton groaned in delight.
"You can cook, Jos," Easton said as he leaned back in his seat with his eyes closed, and my smile only grew wider.
Easton focused on his food for the next ten minutes, and his plate was clean in no time. I tried to eat because I appreciated the meal almost as much as he did, but I couldn't help but watch him. To know that this kind of night could happen all the time if he loved me ... could he really love me?
Not unless I opened his eyes to it. But how was I supposed to do that? I had to hope that this meal would help.
Easton placed his hands on both sides of his plate, and I itched to cover his hand with my own. It was so close. My hand would only have to move inches. But those inches were like a great divide, the before and after of our relationship as it was, and I wasn't ready to broach the topic. Not yet. Not without knowing he wanted to feel the same way about me.
I moved my gaze from Easton's hand to his face to see that his eyes were on me. What I wouldn't give to know what he was thinking. So I had to ask.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked.
Easton seemed startled by my words. He cocked his head as he looked at me closer, and I swore his gaze dropped to my lips again.
Be...ep. Be...ep. Be...ep.
Easton jumped up at the sound of the smoke alarm, and I quickly followed. We ran around the room, blowing out each and every candle until the room was lit only by the moon coming in from the sliding glass door in the living room.
I paused after all of the candles were out and the smoke alarm had finally silenced.
Easton and I had ended up in the living room together after our wild chase. I knew I could take just a few steps forward and we'd be chest to chest. We were already face to face. I longed for a sign from him, any kind of sign, and I'd do it. I would close that gap.
But Easton took a step away and then flicked on the light behind him.
"Aw, there's our culprit," Easton said, pointing to a smoking red candle on the credenza behind our couch that I'd forgotten to trim the wick on.
I blew out a frustrated breath. Why did this keep happening?
Easton turned his body toward the dining room and kitchen. "I guess since you cooked, I'll clean."
He walked to the table and began to gather up the dishes. I wanted to go and help, but I couldn't do anything other than stand there and watch him. His firm hands gripping our plates, his strong arms juggling the salad dressing bottles and glasses as he tried to take over everything all in one trip. This was what I wanted for my future. I could watch this scene every night for the rest of my life and never want for anything more.