Page 77 of The Cupid Chronicles

Once everything is blended, I hand over a pair of tongs. “Time to soak it. Just take a few slices of the bread and dunk it, but make sure to coat it really well.”

She does this, gingerly, like she’s afraid she’ll mess something up. She really is clueless in the kitchen.

It’s kind of adorable.

She looks up, hands limp and dripping. “Now what?”

I pull out a timer and set it for twenty minutes. “Now we wait.”

“For what?”

“For all the liquid to soak into the bread.”

She frowns. “Oh, so this is, like, a process.”

I laugh. “Good food takes time.”

She sighs. “It better be worth it.”

I pick up my coffee and catch her eyes over the edge of the mug. She’s smiling. Teasing. Looking at me like she doesn’t mind being here. Like maybe she even likes it.

And it hits me then that maybe I like it too.

Crap.

Chapter Twenty-One

Iris

Are we having fun?Is that what this is? The thought makes my face flush, and I realize I want him to notice it too.See how fun I am?

“I have to run to the bathroom,” Matteo says abruptly, setting his mug down on the counter and—mercifully—interrupting my thoughts. As he walks away, he calls back, “Feel free to read the paper or, you know, whatever.”

“I’m gonna go through all your stuff!” I call after him.

“Good luck finding stuff to go through,” he calls back, after disappearing on the other side of the living room.

I catch a glimpse of my own smile reflected in the glass of his microwave and quickly erase it. Becausewhat am I doing?

The same thing I always do.

It’s like Phase One was initiated the second I decided not to wallow over his comment about us not being friends. Or—more to the point—the second the apology meal showed up at my door.

Matteo isn’t a mean person, or even a bad guy—but boy, he wants people to think he is.

And I want to know why.

You’re doing it again, Iris. This is how it always starts.

I shake away the thought and walk into the living room, taking in the space.

I was right about his corner apartment. The windows on two sides of this open space allow in so much sunlight, I might as well be standing outside.

But the apartment is so . . . sparse.Toosparse.

I study it for a few long seconds, wondering how he can live in such a sterile environment. It’s like his grandpa took every personal item with him, left behind the basics, and Matteo didn’t bother to replace anything.

The kitchen is, not surprisingly, state-of-the-art, all clean lines and things put away, leaving lots of blank spaces.

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