A Cold Winter (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 15

The silence in the kitchen felt suffocating, like any minute he was about to drop the bombshell that would send me packing. I was sat at his bar, watching him whirl around the kitchen, fixing something that smelled very Italian. After the incident the last time I tried cooking, I had been strictly banned from helping. I had tried to assure him that it was only his influence on me last time that caused the accident and that I am actually quite capable in the kitchen.

Of course that led to a smug chuckle from him as he hugged me and said that maybe we should wait just a bit longer before I cook with him then, since he still affected me so heavily. I had no argument against that, because he was right. I chose to remain silent rather than to admit that to him, however.

Despite how I was feeling, Luke looked rather at home, relaxed even. I tried to tell myself this meant the conversation may not be as heavy or as worrisome as I am anticipating. Easier said than done.

"What are you making?"

He turned from the boiling pot of water and sent me a heart stopping grin. "Spaghetti bolognese. One of Eva's favorites, so I thought you might like it as well."

I watch him efficiently move around his kitchen. He drains his pasta and quickly returns it back to the stove. He combines his meat sauce with the noodles, throwing in a few more spices. I am absolutely mesmerized by how he cooks, and I am becoming increasingly worried that there is in fact, nothing he can't do.

"Where did you learn to cook so well?"

He laughed as he reached into the cabinet to pull out plates. "I've always known. Cooking was something me and my mother always did together. Right up until she passed. Didn't quite remember who I was, but she still knew she loved to cook with me." He smiles wistfully as he scoops a portion onto both plates.

I feel bad about my question leading to such a somber mood and am desperate to make up for it. "Would you like me to set the table? Fix the drinks? I want to help, maybe I could-"

"Hush." His arms are wrapped around me tightly, squeezing. "Don't feel bad. I loved my mother very much and will never shy away from talking about her. She had early early onset Alzheimer's, but died from pneumonia a few years ago."

I nodded, very familiar with Eva's grief over her grandmother's passing. "I would still like to help, where are the glasses?"

He holds my face as he leans down, capturing my lips with his. His kiss is soft, sweet and I want so much more. Before I can react, his mouth is gone and he is staring down at me. "You are such a delight to me, Emmanuel. So I want you to promise that we can have this entire discussion before you try to leave, okay?"

I grimace at my name, but nod, turning my eyes downcast.

His hold tightens as he forces my gaze to meet his eyes. "No no, I need to hear you say the words, Manny."

I swallow. "I'll listen."

His hand moves to stroke the top of my head. "Good boy." The warmth moving through my body at his praise, and I nuzzled into his chest, embarrassed at the expression I knew had crossed my face.

My stomach broke the moment up, growling loudly as we broke apart.

He laughed as he set the table. "Right. Better get some food in you then, shouldn't we?" He points to the cabinet closest to me. "Glasses are right in there, grab whatever two you'd like."

I see he has put some wine on the table, so I grab two glass flutes, setting one on each end of the table.

His phone begins ringing from the kitchen and he excuses himself to answer it. Not sure which place he usually sits, I decide to keep standing. I eye the wine bottle, might as well give myself a little liquid courage before this talk.