Mr. Big Stuff (More Than Money) by L. Nicole

Author:L. Nicole [Nicole, L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: needs an amazon review
Published: 2021-07-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Violet

Standing over the stove, it's hard to believe this has become a frequent occurrence. Kiefer and I share dinner together often. I think he likes me, even if he does keep bringing up the friend thing. Me? I’m completely gone for him. I like him more than I could have ever imagined. Tonight, I’m making dinner for us. Spaghetti with Bolognese was something Kiefer has mentioned as being his favorite and something he couldn’t make for himself. It’s a meal that needs to be shared and I want to share it with him—I want to share all my meals with him. I have no idea how he feels about me—except that he considers us friends. Maybe I’m fooling myself, but it feels like he thinks of me more than a regular friend should. I’m not experienced at this kind of thing, but it does feel like he wants me for more than a friend.

Hell, I could just be fooling myself, and that’s probably what’s going on. I can’t help it though. It kills me to think that he’ll never return what I’m feeling. When we’re together it feels like we’re the only two people in the world.

He has to feel it, too? Doesn’t he?

The doorbell rings and I take off my apron and primp my hair a little. My heart speeds up, because I get to see Kiefer again. I open the door with a smile and that smile only deepens when I notice he’s carrying a box from Patty’s bakery. I can see through the plastic on top that it’s the sweet rolls. The same sweet rolls I have an undying love affair with. He knows this because I’ve told him and also because I was having one when he came in before. The fact that he remembers warms me all the way through.

“I had to bring dessert since you insisted on cooking tonight,” he murmurs, sitting them on the counter once I let him in.

“I’m just adding the finishing touches to dinner, but you didn’t need to bring dessert. I just decided that since this is your favorite, I would cook for you as a way to say thank you,” I stammer nervously.

“Seemed the least I could do. I’ll finish setting the table.” I return to the stove while watching him out of the corner of my eye. He finishes the table and fixes it so that we’re sitting beside one another instead of having the table separate us. My heart squeezes in my chest. He has to like me a little.

“Say thank you for what?” he asks, picking up on what I said earlier. He tilts his head and looks at me quizzically.

“For your friendship,” I murmur, embarrassed that I admit that out loud. He quietly accepts my answer, but I get the feeling he’s not happy with me. It worries me, but I try to push it out of my mind as I put the food on the table. We quietly fill our plates and Kiefer pours some of the lemonade I made in my glass and then his own.

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