Page 41 of They Are Mine

I already know the answer.

I read the note he sent his sister, the one where he said he missed his mom’s shepherd’s pie. That he liked how she burnt the crust a little.

So I’ll do that too.

“Love it,” he says.

I glance up, and suddenly, he’s right there.

He steps around the counter, closing the space between us, gently taking my hands in his.

“Thank you. Really.” His voice is so soft, so warm. “I’ll make this up to you.”

Oh, love.

You already are.

Because this? This moment? This is everything.

He’s holding me. Touching me. Looking at me like I’m something precious.

And it’s so natural. So easy. Like he already knows I belong to him.

I tilt my head, smiling, brushing my thumbs over his fingers. “Clean up,” I murmur.

His gaze flicks over me, slow, thoughtful. “Shit,” he mutters, squeezing my hands. “You’re still in your gym clothes. You want to hit the shower first?”

It’s adorable.

Even now, he’s thinking about me.

I shake my head, stepping back toward the stove. “No. I’m cooking. We’ll eat, and then I’ll shower.” I glance at him, smile just enough. “Use all the hot water. Relax.”

He exhales, nodding, giving me one last look before he heads toward the bathroom.

And I watch him go.

I let my eyes trail over him, over the way he moves, the way his body already looks so at home here.

Because this is where he belongs.

And after tonight?

He’ll never leave.

The food is good.

Perfect, actually. Just the way he likes it. The crust on the shepherd’s pie is just slightly burnt, golden and crisp, the way his mother used to make it.

He made a sound when he took his first bite. A deep, satisfied groan.

And now?

Now, I can’t stop watching him.

He eats with slow, deliberate bites, the kind that make my stomach tighten in a completely different way.

His lips wrap around the fork, dragging the bite into his mouth, tongue just barely flicking over his lower lip before he chews.

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