Page 100 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"I came home."

"You left school?"

He nods. "She didn't ask me to. She wouldn't have."

"But you came back anyway."

"There wasn't anywhere else I'd rather be."

Of course there wasn't. That's Javier.

"Were you able to cook together?"

His expression softens. "Until she couldn't."

I don't interrupt.

"We had a few months. Some days she felt good enough to stand beside me. Other days she'd sit at the table and tell me everything I was doing wrong."

I smile. "A chef until the end."

A quiet laugh leaves him. "Yeah. She was."

He looks down at the sauce. "She wanted me to finish school. Since I wouldn't go back, she decided she'd finish teaching me herself."

Something tightens in my chest. "What did she teach you?"

"Everything she could."

He stirs the sauce slowly. "Sauces. Technique. How ingredients behave. Why something works instead of just how to make it work. She'd make me taste something and tell her what was missing."

"She sounds amazing."

"She was relentless."

There's affection in every word.

"Even when she got weaker?"

"Especially then."

His smile is small now. "Herbs were the last thing. She said most people add them because a recipe tells them to. She wanted me to know what they actually do to food. When to use them. When not to."

I glance at the marjoram on the counter. "That explains your herb obsession."

"It isn't an obsession."

"Of course not."

He gives me a look, but he's smiling.

"She taught me right up until she couldn't anymore. I cooked for her after that."

"What did she like?"

The question seems to surprise him. "Whatever you remember," I add.

He thinks. "Coq au vin. Potato gratin. There was a pear tart my grandfather made that she swore nobody else could get right."