She stir-fries. The minced vegetables and meat cook in a flash. She makes the sauce and adds the spices. She takes a taste and smiles at the sight of a wild bouquet of color on the countertop.
His eyes gleam with amusement. It’s the first time she’s cooked for him and he’s watching her with a hungry look on his face that cannot be just for the dinner she’s making.
“I hope you like it,” she says with a wink.
When she stands up from peeking at the pie baking in the oven, he’s behind her kissing her neck and she melts into him. He pushes her against the counter and spins her around. The timer beeps. She finds the plates and pours the wine. She’s worth whatever she chooses to bring to the table and he knows it.
“Hungry?” she asks.
He pulls her to the floor.
And they dine on her grandma’s chicken pot pie served up on paper plates.
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