Page 73 of Words We Didn't Say

“Eden.” A scowl turned over Zach’s shoulder. “Stop looking at my butt.” He had the nerve to wink.

“As if I was.” The squeak in my voice betrayed me. “Stop being so obsessed with yourself.”

My gaze drifted around the apartment. I’d never missed this place. The bitter memories of being on my own—wondering where Zach was—still stained the sterile white walls. A shudder skated over my skin, but I shook off the feeling. I closed my eyes,focusing on our fresh start and all the delicious smells floating in the kitchen.

“Bread…and herbs…and something sweet in the oven,” I murmured. “Maybe a hint of coffee.”

Zach laughed. “You’ve basically guessed my whole menu.” When I popped my eyes open, he was leaning over the marble countertop, watching me with a smile as he tumbled a pile of tomatoes onto his chopping board. “I’m cooking Italian.”

“That’s my favourite!” I stowed my bag and wandered over, searching for an apron, hovering over his board, ready to help. “What can I do?”

“I’m supposed to be pampering you, remember?” He pointed at the uncorked bottle of white wine—the bougie kind I liked—and the empty glass waiting on the edge of the kitchen counter. “For you. Take a seat and talk to me about your day. I’ll keep going with this.”

I scooted my li’l booty onto the stool. Pouring the wine, I paused for a moment, letting a familiar feeling sink into my bones. This was nice. Cosy. Zach and I had shared a few dinners like this in our early days. I’d cooked. He’d cooked. We’d talked about nothing much important, and dinner had often gotten singed around the edges when we’d been distracted by an overheated kissing session. A flicker of warmth tinged my cheeks. Was that how tonight would end?

Ping.

I clunked down the wine bottle, my eyes shifting to where Zach had tossed his phone on the counter.

He wasn’t interested in the slightest. He ignored it, focusing on the ingredients in front of him. “So, what did you get up to today?” His knife hit the board in smooth, steady strokes.

“Not much,” I said. “Sometimes, you need a lazy Saturday. We opted for brunch and pedicures.”

“Cute.” His eyebrow lifted. “Even Andie?”

“EspeciallyAndie. Don’t let her tomboy aesthetic fool you. In some ways, she’s as high-maintenance as the rest of us. What’d you get up to?”

Ping.

Zach ignored the new message and kept chopping. “Went into the office.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m behind on a few files.” The smile he attempted was strained. “My boss isn’t exactly happy about it.” He couldn’t turn away quick enough to avoid the rest of that conversation. He fussed with the knobs on the oven instead.

Ping.

What the f—

Ping.

Paranoia clawed at my skin. I needed to trust Zach to make our relationship work, but my fingers itched to snatch the phone.

Zach skewered a toothpick into whatever he was baking in the oven. “Dee, can you please see who’s ruining our night?” he asked absently.

“Oh, um…” A nervous laugh. “I respect your privacy.” A total lie. I snuck another sideways look at his phone. I’d kill to know who kept messaging him.

He snorted. “The passcode is eight five three zero. I’m giving you full authority to tell whoever it is to buzz off.”

I picked up the phone, the thump of adrenaline in my veins making my hand shake. I took a deep breath. Typed in the passcode. Opened the messages. Let my beady little eyes read all the terrible words. Except…

My smile stretched wider the more I read. The never-ending stream of messages was from Zach’s mum.

Mum

Is Eden there yet?

Did you choose something nice to wear?

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