Page 72 of By Blade, I Love
“You know that saying, cooking is an art, not a science?”
I stared at her as I chewed.
“Well, it’s an art. Once you understand the basics, you can kinda make it up as you go.”
“You make that sound easier than it really is.”
“Now, baking is a science, which is why I never bake.”
“I assumed that was because I don’t eat sweets.”
“No, just too frustrating.” She ate her dinner across from me, sipping her wine occasionally, the kitchen piled with dishes because we always did them after she ate instead of letting the food go cold when it was ready.
“You’re the perfect woman, you know that?”
Her eyes hesitated slightly when she heard what I said. “How so?”
“You can cook, you can fuck, you can heal, and you’ve got that mafia edge to you. Perfect combination.”
“Never thought about it that way.”
I continued to shovel the food into my mouth. Everything she made was exceptional. Whether it was pasta or chicken or seafood, she always nailed it. “I was really missing your cooking.”
She smiled. “Which is why I cooked tonight.”
“I feel bad putting you to work the day after our wedding.”
“I like cooking, especially for you,” she said. “When the dust has settled and Icarus is dealt with, we’ll go on a real honeymoon.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “We’re already in the most beautiful place in the world.”
“What about Paris?”
“That’d be nice,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to go on safari…”
“We can do both.”
“Sounds like a long trip.”
“It’s our honeymoon,” I said. “It should be long.”
“I guess I could have Elio hold down the fort until I get back.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he can handle it.”
We finished our dinner until our plates were clean, and then we drank the rest of our wine.
I sat there and stared at her in the light of the candles, feeling a fullness to my heart that I couldn’t quite describe. I’d never felt like anything was missing until I met her. Didn’t feel depressed or empty. Never wanted for anything. And then I found her…and I wasn’t sure how I’d lived that way for so long.
The next day, I walked down the hallway of the third story of the villa and approached Francesca’s open doorway.
She stood in front of the window with her back to me, talking to someone on the phone. “I’ll see what I can do. You should hear from me before the end of the day.” In her tight dark denim jeans with the brown leather holster visible over her shoulder and mixed with her hair, she was utterly fuckable.
I seriously wanted to fuck her all the time.
She ran her fingers through her hair as she turned back to the desk and tossed her phone on the surface. Her eyes lifted to me when she realized I was there. “Has your day been as shitty as mine?”
