Page 42 of Stay With Me

When we get to the kitchen, I don’t realize I’m holding my breath waiting for her reaction until she speaks.

“Oh, my God.” She whips around to look at me. “This kitchen. It’s exactly how I would design my dream kitchen.”

She walks over and literally caresses the farmhouse sink, then lifts her head to peer out the window situated over it. What she can’t see is that the view overlooks a flower bed that I plant sunflowers in every year. Because they remind me of her.

As she turns to the walnut butcher block countertop on the large island, she leans down and rests her cheek against the wood, closing her eyes and sighing.

“I think I’m in love with your kitchen,” she teases.

I chuckle in response, not taking my eyes off of her. Pride swells in my chest at her reaction. When she lifts her cheeks off the butcher block, she gasps. I follow her line of vision to the oversized gas range with a pot filling faucet above it.

“Holy hell. I seriously feel like I’m dreaming.” She whirls around to face me. “Charlie, youhaveto let me come over and cook here. It’s sinful to have a kitchen this gorgeous and only use it to microwave frozen meals or pop processed waffles in the toaster.”

I grin at her. “You’re welcome to come use the kitchen anytime. I can even get you a key in case you want to come spend time with the kitchen when I’m at work.” I wink at her, and she laughs.

“Don’t tempt me.” Her smile is huge and I’m happy to know I brought her some joy. Even if it is just by how I designed my kitchen.

She walks over to the grocery bag she brought and pulls out two silicone trivets, places them on the counter, then lifts out a large glass casserole dish and places it on top of the silicone. She follows this with a smaller dish. Next, she lifts a dish towel from the bag and unwraps it to reveal a loaf of bread that looks and smells homemade. Finally, she removes a plate of decadent looking brownies and sets them on the island.

“I made a chicken paprikash casserole, roasted carrots, and homemade bread. Will you please get us plates and silverware?” Her smile lights up the room when she looks at me.

I do as she asks, then remove the cork from the wine she brought and pour us both a glass. We fill our plates with food that looks amazing with the bright colors of the paprika and carrots, and smells deliciously smoky.

This is so much better than having cereal.

We spend the next half hour eating dinner at the large farmhouse table and my stomach couldn’t be more pleased. I’m pretty sure I just fell a little bit in love with Emily.

I lift my wineglass to my lips and look around at my kitchen, a lump growing in my throat when my brain reminds me that, if the design of my kitchen says anything, it says there’s nojustabout it. I’ve been falling in love with Emily Flynn for a long time even if I couldn’t admit it to myself.

I shove the thought down. That can never happen. It’s out of the question, so no sense even entertaining the idea.

* * *

EMILY

I’ve spent the last two weeks wishing I could hang out with Charlie, but not brave enough to just text him and ask. So, where I somehow found the courage to basically internet stalk him to find his address, then show up on his doorstep, is beyond me. But I’m glad I did because sitting here having dinner together has been great. I love to cook, and mostly from scratch. Something about getting the seasonings and spices to blend in just the right proportions reminds me of a symphony where each part plays its role perfectly to create a harmonious work of art.

But I’m one person and there’s only so much food I can fit in this five-foot one-inch frame. Besides, for me, half the joy of cooking is watching people I care about enjoy a meal I’ve prepared. And, if the number of times Charlie has closed his eyes and quietly moaned as his mouth wraps around his fork is any indication, he’s most definitely enjoying the food. I’m not sure he’s even aware he’s doing it but I’m getting a kick out of it.

When we’re both done eating, Charlie and I make quick work of cleaning up, and I fill some containers to leave leftovers for him, though he insists I don’t have to. I want to, though—I hate the thought of him eating the pre-packaged frozen meals I know he usually does.

Charlie clears his throat and I look over at him. “So, do you want to see the rest of the place? I’ve not had a chance to remodel the upstairs yet, but I’ll show it to you if you want.”

“Um, do you know me? Remember how nosy I can be? Of course I want to see it.”

Charlie laughs at my teasing but we both know I’m only half joking.

“Okay then, follow me. First, I’ll show you the remainder of the main floor.”

I follow as Charlie leaves the main kitchen area, and he heads to the back wall of the house.

He stops outside a door and turns to face me.

“This room is one of my favorites in the house even though it’s not remodeled yet. It almost makes me wish I had a job that required a home office. Almost, but not quite.” He grins at me as he opens the door.

When I step into the room, it nearly takes my breath away. Before me is a gorgeous space that could be a home office or a study. It has exposed beams in the ceiling, one entire wall of gorgeous built-in wooden bookshelves and a wall of windows overlooking what must be acres and acres of woods. On the wall opposite the bookshelves are French doors leading out to a deck. There’s an opening in the trees with what appears to be a path, but I can’t see where it leads.

“Oh my gosh, this is amazing. The room is beautiful as is, but if you plan to remodel it, I can only imagine what it’ll look like. Where does the path in the woods lead to?”

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