Page 44 of Always Been You
The process feels soothing as I busy myself, measuring out the ingredients and setting the milk on the stove to heat slowly.
Chapter Twenty
Eddie
Waking up soundly has been a foreign concept to me for the last decade. I’d thank the stars if I could manage a decent nap, yet I slept like a baby yesterday. The sex was the best I’ve ever had, and that says a lot, considering my history.
Lawliss is going to be the last woman in my life because I can’t see myself with anyone else. She was also my first in a way I never expected. I always thought I was unfeeling and detached, until I realized how much it hurts when she hurts. When she’s sad, it pulls at my heartstrings in a way nothing else ever has.
I don’t know how I managed to live without her all these years, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that my life was empty before she came back into it. And now that she’s here, I don’t plan on ever letting her go again.
Stretching, I tap the side of the bed where Lawliss should be and my hand stops short. My heart skips a beat, and my eyelid snaps open, dry and scratchy. Her side of the bed is cold.
I stand immediately, checking the bathroom first, then stride to the living room. Relief washes over me when I see her bustling around the kitchen, her movements quick and efficient.
She hates cooking, even though she’s good at it. I remember when she first decided to learn. She bugged her family’s chef to teach her, and somehow, the chef agreed. But Lawliss, being Lawliss, barely ate the meals she prepared, claiming that inhaling the aroma while she cooked was enough to fill her up. Eventually, she gave up entirely, or maybe not.
Walking into the kitchen, I wrap my arms around her waist from behind, catching her off guard.
“Shit!” she yelps as oil spatters onto the floor.
“Careful, Empress.”
“You scared the hell out of me, Eddie! What are you doing awake? You should still be asleep.” She glances at the clock on the wall, her eyes narrowing. “It’s only 11:00 a.m.”
“I should be asking you that,” I reply, grinning. Didn’t I exhaust you enough last night? You’ve got the energy to cook?”
She blushes, trying to push me away. “Go sit down. I’ll let you know when the food is ready.”
“But I want to help, Chef,” I tease, pulling her back against me. Her body stiffens for just a moment, then softens.
Turning to face me, spatula in hand, she smirks. “Edmund, don’t tempt me.”
She licks her lips, pushes me away, and returns to her cooking. I lean against the counter, taking in the scene. The smell of sizzling eggs fills the air, warm and familiar. This—her, us—this is everything I’ve ever wanted. But as much as I hate to do it, I know I have to bring up the topic I’ve been avoiding.
If I don’t push for us to be together officially, Lawliss might take forever to decide. After what her ex-husband put her through, I understand her hesitation. Still, I can’t wait forever.
“Wife,” I call, testing the waters.
She’s already dropped bread into the toaster and is scrambling eggs in a pan. She turns to me, arching an eyebrow, her lawyer’s gaze sharp and skeptical. I chuckle, holding up my hands. Maybe I jumped the gun a little.
“What do I call you?” I ask after a beat of silence.
She shakes her head, turning back to the eggs. “You’ve always called me whatever you wanted. Why are you asking now?”
“Because you looked like you might kill me if I called you ‘wife’ again.”
She plates the eggs and starts walking toward the dining area. “That’s right. I don’t remember agreeing to be your girlfriend, let alone your wife,” she quips, her tone light but pointed.
“I told you—sleeping together made it official.”
“That’s a demand, not a request,” she fires back, setting the plates down. “If you want someone to be your girlfriend, you ask. A gesture. Something meaningful. Not just… this.”
Her voice falters. “I know I’m not worth much, but—”
I stop her in her tracks, moving from the counter to her in an instant, grabbing her hand. “But nothing. Hey, look at me.”
She does, swallowing hard.
