Page 53 of Faking Ties

“Looking for something?” I ask.

“The pans?” She wipes her hands on her shirt and says, “And a spatula and the cover.”

I laugh. “Do you not use your kitchen often?”

“I’m not a good cook, too busy and all.” She grabs her phone and types out a quick message. It pings and she reads it and heads to the other side of the kitchen and pulls out all the things she needs, finding them easier now.

I’m not sure why I find it cute that she clearly doesn’t know her way around her kitchen, but it is.

She yawns and I guide her to a stool. “Let me cook for you.”

“No, it’s okay. I can do it.”

“Park your fine ass there and let me cook,” I say.

“Fine.” She chuckles. “If you insist.”

“Do you want some tea? For your throat?” She gives me a confused look and I say, “I read that it helpssingers, especially when they have many shows in a row.”

“You read up on how to help me?”

“Of course,” I say simply. “I also got you that.” I point to the two boxes on the table.

“More desserts?” she jokes and opens the biggest one first, full of peanut butter and chocolate fudge. She pops a piece in her mouth and moans. “Now this is what I call heaven.”

“Open the second one, too.”

She hesitantly opens the box, as if scared about what’s inside. She pulls out the thin bracelet with suns dotted on the band and her gaze flies to mine.

“It’s not as good as feeling the real thing on your skin,” I say, “but I thought you could carry around the sun with you since you miss it so much.”

She stares at the bracelet for a long time without saying anything. Oh shit. She hates it.

“It was a stupid idea,” I say, reaching for the bracelet, about to fling this thing into the garbage can. If I never see it again, it’d be too soon. What the hell was I thinking getting a billionaire such a stupid gift?

She pulls it out of my reach and glares at me. “I’ll hurt you if you even think to take this back.”

“Do you like it?” I ask softly.

“Like it?” She meets my gaze with tears in her eyes. “No, I love it.” She fastens it to her wrist, the same one with her navy woven bracelet. When she’s done, she holds her arm out in front of her, a soft smile on herlips. “I’m not used to getting presents.” She says it so quietly, I’m not sure I heard her correctly. But that can’t be right. People must be falling over themselves getting her things, but she’s looking at the bracelet like that’s not the case. Stella deserves to be pampered and spoiled, and it appears like the people in her life don’t appreciate her like she deserves.

Good thing she has me to rectify that. I plate up our sandwiches, and we eat them in silence. I’m not sure what she’s thinking about, but I’m not able to think about anything but her. She’s slowly becoming my sun, the star I orbit around, and I can’t keep my gaze off her.

“You’re staring,” she says.

“I can’t help it. You’re too mesmerizing.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

I give her a soft look and she jumps from the stool, quickly collecting the empty plates before dashing to the sink.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“The dishes.”

“That’s my job.” I try to take the plate from her, but she moves it out of my reach.

“No,” she says, “you cooked, so I clean.”

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