Page 58 of The Love Syllabus

We don’t say much. We don’t need to. Our silence lingers, but it’s different now. It’s softer. Not quite peace, but not war either. Just the kind of quiet that says:I’m not ready to open up yet, but I’m trying.

So, I don’t push. I just rest against his chest and listen to the steady, grounding rhythm of his heartbeat.

After a long, wild day, I close my eyes and allow sleep to take me under. But just before I drift off, he leans in, and his lips graze my ear to whisper something only I can hear.

“I had fun today.” His voice is soft, laced with something vulnerably dangerous.“And you were right… you do make me want to beg for more.”

~~~

By the next day, every talk show, blog, and social media account is wondering who I am.

The following week, the entire country is ‘shipping’ Chef Grimes and His Decadent Dessert.

This morning, I wake up earlier than usual to see him off to work, but I’m met with a not-so-professional, more playfully romantic hug from behind.

He smirks, then places a magazine down on the counter, front and center, displaying a picture of us out on the town.

“It seems your syllabus is working.” His voice is smooth, teasing. “We’re fooling everyone.”

I smile, but my heart knows better as I lean back into the comfort of his embrace.

He’s right. We’re fooling everyone…except me.

Chapter 15

Wine, Whiskey, and Wicked Hands – Kerry

What a day. What a week. What an unpredictable summer this has been!

I feel like I’m on an adrenaline-pumping rollercoaster, and I love it! I’m talking about teaching. Yep, just teaching.

I’m almost tempted to make this gig permanent. Almost.But that’d be crazy, right? I still miss teaching in a big classroom but at the same time… I can’t imagine not seeing this family every day. The laughter, the chaos, the way we’ve all fallen into a rhythm—it feels right. But the contract says one year and one year only.

Still… I wonder if Vic would ever consider extending it.

And honestly? I’d even take less money. My first few paychecks alone were enough to get me caught up on old bills and then some. For the first time in forever, I can shop online again! My cart has been waiting for me to click that checkout button. I can order food whenever I want, but I don’t even need to do that because I’m dating,not really, a whole chef!

I’m finally breathing again.

And lately, I feel like I’m being adoredagain. Well, not again… I feel like I’m being adored for the first timeever.

Vic spoils me in ways that, to him, are just the standard, but to me, they feel like a luxury I never knew I deserved.

My definition of breakfast is a bagel or bowl of cereal, something quick and simple. But to Vic? It’s cooking a homemade breakfast complete with Belgian waffles, fresh turkey bacon, eggs benedict, and a fruit platter.

My poor little Honda only gets driven when I go home on the weekends because here? I’m either being driven around by Gary or handed the keys to one of Vic’s luxury cars, half of which I can’t even pronounce.

He checks in on me every morning and throughout the day—not like I’m his responsibility, but like I’m his person. His friend. Like my well-being actually matters to him.

He doesn’t do anything for praise. He doesn’t do anything for show. He does everything because he wants to and that’s just who he is. He gives without hesitation, without expectation.

And when he asks how I’m feeling, I tell him I’m good, but he doesn’t just accept it; he asks me what he needs to do to make me feel great. And it unnerves me because I don’t have an answer. He doesn’t understand that I’m not used to being taken care of like this.

And he does these things not for show, not for selfies, or for the public. He just does it for me.

And what does he ask for in return? My company.

The evenings are ours. No matter how busy the day or how exhausted we both are, we always find each other. A glass of wine for me and a whiskey neat for him.

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