Page 19 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
“Come and get it,” he called. “Hope you don’t mind having it on a tray in your lap.”
Two plates sat on the breakfast bar, both heaped up with lasagna. It was a mess, food styling clearly not one of Kit’s strong points, but the aroma was rich with garlic, cheese and red wine and I closed my eyes and breathed it in deep on instinct. Kit’s laughter had my eyes snapping open.
“You look like you’ve gone to your happy place.”
I had, but it had nothing to do with the dog’s dinner on my plate.
We sat back down on the sofa, close enough that I could feel the faint warmth of him but not so close that it felt intentional.
“It’s nothing fancy,” he said, handing me some cutlery.
I forked some up and took a bite, chewing slowly, taking my time, making him wait. It was amazing, not because it was the best lasagna I’d ever eaten, but because it was home cooked, and it had been home cooked for me. My eyes watered a little, but I told myself it was only a reaction to the fresh from the oven heat of it.
“It’s edible,” I said after a moment, keeping my tone as flat as possible.
Kit gave me a look, his eyebrows raised. “Edible? That’s all you’ve got?”
I shrugged, taking another bite. “I’ve had worse.”
His lips twitched, and for a second, I thought he might argue. Instead, he dug back into his food.
“There I was, slaving away in the kitchen, and all I get isit’s edibleandI’ve had worse,” he grumbled.
“I’m eating it, aren’t I? I didn’t realise you’d invited me with the sole intention of fishing for compliments.” I kept my face straight as I heaped some more up. There was no way I was going to let even the tiniest scrap escape.
“I didn’t.”
My hand with the fork hovered between the plate and my mouth. At some point, the music had stopped, leaving us in silence, which stretched out like the melted cheese on the pasta.
“Let me get us some more wine. White still okay for you?” His words were casual and light and I thought I must have imagined the moment of strained silence. Until I looked at his face, which was washed with red.
He brought the bottle back with him, filled our glasses, and picked up the remote control for the TV, pulling up a list of streaming services.
“I said food and film. You’ve got the food, so here’s the other part. I made an executive decision about what to watch. Hope you don’t mind.” He looked at me and grinned. The little sod couldn’t give a damn whether I minded or not.
“As long as it’s not some romance or shit like that.” Or crime, because god knows I had enough of that in my life.
“You don’t like romance? People finding their happy ever afters?” he said, all wide eyed innocence. “I could almost call you cynical.”
“I don’t, and I am.” I shrugged, and attempted a smile to soften my words, but how could I like something I knew nothing about?
I went to fork up some more food, but my plate was empty. Kit laughed as he grabbed it, rushing to the kitchen to pile on some more. I hadn’t eaten so much carbohydrate in I didn’t know how long, and I was savouring every mouthful.
“I was intending on Pride & Prejudice, the version with the delectable Colin Firth, which I’ve watched I don’t know how many times, but there’s romance and shit, so I’ve made another executive decision, and it’s this.” He pressed play on the remote, and the title of the film came up. I didn’t watchTV of any description very much, but this was a film I had seen, on some obscure channel in the late small hours.
“Spying and corruption at the heart of 1980s British government.” I turned to look at Kit, cocking an eyebrow. “Defence of The Realm, with Denholm Elliot giving a masterful performance.” I couldn’t remember how I’d picked up that particular nugget.
“All right smart arse, but at least it means you like it so I take that as a win.”
We settled back into eating, topping up our wine glasses every so often. The film rolled out, the dialogue competing with the clink of our cutlery against our plates. It was a good film, and any other night I’d have been pulled into it. But this wasn’t any other night. My focus kept drifting back to Kit, to the way he ate, easy, unhurried, and relaxed, like this was just another night for him. Like I wasn’t sitting there, silently analysing every moment.
“What?” he asked suddenly, catching me off guard.
“Nothing.” I looked away.
“You were staring.”
“I wasn’t.”
