Page 53 of Tactical Lies

She chuckled. “Don’t pretend like you didn't know I was planning our wedding from before we were even a couple. I used to ask you all the time what you thought about different ideas.”

“I remember.” He reached out and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “I just like hearing you say it.”

“You always used to tell me you didn't care one way or the other, that so long as I was happy, you were happy.”

Leaning in, he feathered his lips across hers. “That’s still true, moonlight. Still true.”

Becca was smiling, her lips tingling, her fingers curled around the penis plushie, still wishing it was Connor’s length in her hand, as they started walking again. Spending time together like this, just the two of them, made it feel like old times.

Times that seemed closer within reach than they had this time yesterday.

Chapter

Thirteen

August 21st

6:51 P.M.

“I forgot how bad a cook you were,” Connor teased Becca as he pulled her loaf of bread out of the oven.

Well, it was supposed to be a loaf of bread, but in reality, it was a lumpy, burned, hunk of … nothing.

Because this thing was not edible.

Not in any way.

“Hey!” she protested, tossing him a glare. But then her gaze fell on the tin in his hands and her nose scrunched. “Okay, well baking homemade bread obviously isn’t my strong suit, but I can cook.”

“Sure you can,” he said indulgently. They both knew differently.

“Ican,” she insisted.

“You can boil or steam vegetables,” he agreed. She’d learned to after they first moved in together, and she ruined four pots by boiling them dry. After that, she realized she had to pay attention and keep an eye on the pots so you didn't both boil them dry and turn the vegetables inside into mush.

“I can cook pasta, too.”

“Yes, that’s a very challenging meal.”

Becca poked her tongue out at him. “I make a great macaroni and cheese from scratch, and you love it. That involves cooking the pasta, making the sauce, getting the amount of cheese just right, and baking it.”

“You do cook a mean mac and cheese,” he agreed, but that was about as complicated as Becca could do. It hadn't taken them long to realize that he would be the cook in their family. It wasn't that she didn't try, she just had an uncanny knack of ruining pretty much any food she touched. He’d seen her ruin cereal, basically the easiest food to prepare, because she always poured in way too much milk, making it seem like you had a few grains swimming in an ocean of milk.

“And I make a great tomato pasta sauce,” she added as she gave the loaf of bread he’d set on the counter one last disgusted look then began to make a burger with the meat he’d just finished grilling. Luckily, they had some buns he’d bought from the supermarket, otherwise, they’d be eating them as salad and burger patties.

“Agreed.” It was really good, she didn't even add anything beyond some onion and herbs, but it was amazing.

“So I think we both agree Icancook then,” she said with a triumphant smile as she carried her plate over to the sofa and dropped down onto it.

“We don’t agree on that, babe,” he told her as he plopped beside her and held out the cutlery she’d forgotten to grab before leaving the kitchen. Becca always ate her burgers with a knife and fork no matter how many times he told her to just pick it up with her hands and take a bite.

“You're just being difficult.” She huffed as she took the cutlery from his hand.

“You're just being stubborn,” he shot back, enjoying their casual banter. The more time they spent together, the more relaxed Becca seemed to become in his presence.

Not that he was expecting any miracles.

Every bit of trust he got from her had to be earned. But he felt like he was making progress. She’d told him about her ex and the relief he’d felt when she admitted that she most likely wouldn't have gone through with the wedding was topped only by the fact that she’d also told him that she still loved him and always had.

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