He wasn’t a cook, but he had been practising for weeks. He had mastered it all, from the roasted beetroot salad to the raspberry coulis for the chocolate torte.
She walked through the door and her mouth dropped, a shocked smile. “Is all this for me?”
“Every last bit. I’ve even made lamb.”
She breathed deeply. “You’re amazing. With mint sauce?”
How had he forgotten? Her favourite.
She kissed his crestfallen mouth. “Don’t worry – I keep a jar in my bag for emergencies such as this.”
He burst out laughing. These were the things he had fallen in love with.
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