I nodded, not knowing what else to say. It was clear that he had found a way to cope with the pain, but I could tell that the memories were still very much alive in his heart.
I turned my attention back to the oven, hoping to lighten the mood. “These meatballs look amazing.”
“Believe me, they taste even better,” he said, a note of pride in his voice.
“That’s a big claim,” I teased, smiling as I closed the oven door. “So, how many ladies have you cooked for?”
He looked at me with a playful glint in his eyes. “Prepared lunch at my home, you mean?”
“Yes,” I said, raising an eyebrow, already anticipating his answer.
He chuckled, feigning thoughtfulness. “Not many. Maybe about a dozen.”
I gave him a skeptical look, and he burst into laughter, the sound warm and genuine. “Gotcha. I was just kidding.
Honestly, it’s not something I do casually. I only cook for people I like a lot. And I’ve come to like you… a whole lot,” he added, his voice softening with sincerity.
I felt a warmth spread through me at his words, but I couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “And if the feeling isn’t mutual?” I asked, though I knew deep down that I was already starting to feel something for him.
“I’d take it as a challenge,” he replied with a grin. “You’ll be head over heels in love with me once you get to know me.”
“You sound so sure of yourself,” I said, shaking my head in amusement, but there was something about his confidence that was almost reassuring.
“What do I have to lose?” he asked, his tone light. “I don’t give up easily.”
“Finally, lunch is ready!” he announced, his face lighting up with pride as he took off the apron and stepped back to admire his work.
I helped him set the table while he fetched a bottle of red wine. “This will go perfectly with the pasta,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement.
The meal was as delicious as it smelled, and we started with the meatballs, which were tender and savory, bursting with flavor. I found myself eagerly anticipating the main course, already impressed by Avery’s culinary skills.
“Avery…” I began, catching his attention.
“Yeah?” he replied, looking up from his plate.
“If you don’t mind my asking, do you live alone? I didn’t see any staff around, and this house is quite big.”
“For now, yes,” he said, nodding. “I hire a housekeeping service from time to time. They come in, clean what needs to be cleaned, and leave. I prefer solitude and my own company.”
“That says a lot,” I murmured, more to myself than to him, but he heard me.
He arched an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “What was that?”
“I was just saying, it explains why you chose to live in a secluded area,” I said, trying to cover up my slip.
“Partly that,” he admitted, “and for other reasons.”
I looked at him, sensing that there was more to the story. “What other reasons?” I asked, genuinely curious.
He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I was married for two years, and we had a son.”
His words hit me like a wave, unexpected and heavy with emotion. I remained silent, letting him speak at his own pace.
“Unfortunately, I lost them both in a fire. I left Texas after that, needing to escape the memories. Everywhere reminded me of them. I needed a fresh start, and I found solace and peace here—a place to heal. This isn’t just my home; it’s my sanctuary.”
The depth of his pain was palpable, and I felt a lump form in my throat. “I’m so sorry, Avery,” I said softly, my voice thick with emotion. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like.”
He nodded, his eyes reflecting a sadness that seemed to have settled deep within him. “Thank you, Licia. It’s been a long journey, but I’ve found peace here.”
