Happily Divorced

(24) Ex-wife

"Stop that." I have only one hand to smack his fingers away. He still ends up pinching my nose.

I punch him on the stomach. "You like mocking me about that."

"Hey, don't break another arm." He laughs, then pulled just the slightest, putting me inches to his chest. "Unless you want to be stuck with me. I'd be more than glad about that though." He grinned, looking down to me with playful, baby blue eyes.

I tug my hand back, taking a step back because it had felt dangerously nice. "I can't grow old like this."

"Don't be such a sourpuss. You know what? I have just the thing to turn that frown upside down." He reaches for my hand, clasping his fingers around my wrist gently.

"Where are we going?"

He ushered me back inside the house to the kitchen. "The chicken might be done by now."

"Are you rubbing your culinary skills on my face?"

"No. I'm flexing my culinary muscles at you." He looks over his shoulder and wagged his brows.

"Lame," I deadpanned.

The butterflies in my stomach would disagree but he doesn't have to know that.

Nathan lets go of my hand and grabs me a stool. He then walks to the stove to remove the chicken breasts that honestly smelled divine.

"How can you leave that chicken and not burn it?" I prop my other elbow on the kitchen island and rested my chin on my palm.

"It's called culinary muscles."

I click my tongue. "I'll ignore that. Your kitchen is enormous."

"Thank you."

I inhaled a smell of fresh lemon and a hint of pepper. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

He snorts, scrunching his nose adorably. "Not a chance."

I glared at him.

He chuckled. "Okay, cranky-pants. I'll be happy to escort you out to our dining area."

"Aren't we in the kitchen already?"

"Just follow me." He tugs me out of my chair, leading me through the patio doors and to the backyard.

My breath caught in my throat. I never been to this part of the house. I thought it was still under repair. But now I see it's done. The brick deck is a cutout picture from Architectural Digest.

Tucked on the corner by the fireplace are two chairs and a café table, a white cloth spread on the tabletop. There was champagne nestled in an iced bucket in between two champagne flutes.

"Wow. I'm impressed by your culinary muscles."

"I can teach you a couple of lessons." He leans to my ear.

I shivered. "I don't know. Do you still like teaching me and then getting disappointed in the end?"

Nathan smiles, shrugging his shoulders. "I still like the same things."

I bat my eyelashes. "Well, I still like disappointing you."

He places a hand on the small of my back and ushered me to the table. "You stay here while I finish prepping our dinner."

"Fine."

"Don't start with the champagne without me," he instructed like I was a kid.

I pointed to my injured arm. "Yeah. I can't open a bottle of champagne with my two hands, let alone one."

He pinches my cheek and returns inside the house. I watch him through the patio doors.

The cool air chilled my skin in contrast to the heat from the fireplace. It's actually quite nice. I look up the trees and soaked in the sunset. I don't know how long I have been staring but by the time the sun completely sank to the trees – out of my line of sight – Nathan was back.

"Dinner is served." He carried our plates to the table.

I closed my eyes and took in the heavenly aroma. "You've really gone through great lengths, haven't you?"

Nathan sat on the seat from across me. "You call this great? I'm barely making an effort here." He reaches for the bottle of champagne and popped it open with ease. He topped off both our glasses.

"I feel like we should make a toast, but I don't know what we're going to toast to." I reached for the flute and took a tiny sip, enjoying the bubbles tickling the tip of my nose.

Nathan leans over to touch my glass. "Can we agree on world peace?"

"Yeah, right. How about a world without famine?" I ask sarcastically.

"I'm just messing with you. To Ethan?"

I tip my glass, clinking it against his. "That we can agree on." After taking a sip, I look down to the chicken breasts laying delectably on a bed of a fancy looking sauce. "What exactly are these chicken breasts bathing in?"

"It's tortellini marinara sauce." He cuts a piece of my chicken and smothered it with the sauce, spearing tortellini with it. He held the fork out for me. "Your first bite means so much to me." He winks.

I laugh. "Wow, I didn't know you speak chef." I leaned, sliding my mouth into the fork and sighed at the taste of the chicken on my tongue.

He gave me a triumphant grin. "I can't take all the credit though. I think Syd just keeps rubbing off on me."

In one solid second, the chicken turned stale in my mouth. My instinct was to spit it out and leave the food untouched because I have lost my appetite.

The mention of Sydney hadn't bothered me before. But as a lump took residence in my throat, I think I know why I started having problems with it.

It came with the bright side of coming home. Except it sits opposite across that bright side.

Somehow, it was bearable when we were miles away from home. But now that were not, Sydney Williams is real.

"At least someone knows how to use your kitchen." I forced a smile even when I couldn't meet his gaze.

"You could say that. Vren and Christian cook in my kitchen too."

My eyes flicked up. "They do?"

"Yeah."

I suddenly wanted to give his buddies a warm hug.