Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

She quirked a smile, rattling off a list of cravings in one breath, and he responded almost immediately.

[I'll make dinner tonight. I've been discharged from the hospital, and the doc says I'm good as long as I don't go jogging or

anything.]

Carol instantly forgave him.

[Great, I'll head back right now.]

Bubbling with joy, she swung open the door to her bedroom and gave Abner a heads up.

It wasn't unusual for her to stay out; she had her own fancy digs elsewhere, and Abner never tied her down.

Carol took the bus back to her apartment, even instructing her people to drive her luxury car back.

As she unlocked her apartment door, the sound of chopping greeted her ears.

She had seen Felix cook before, but her heart still warmed at the sight.

Standing at the kitchen doorway, she saw him aproned up, one hand wielding a knife, the other pressing down on the vegetables.

Carol wrapped her arms around him from behind, "You're hurt, you know. Maybe we should just order in."

Felix's eyes darkened momentarily as he felt her hands around his waist.

"I'm fine, go sit down."

Carol buried her face in his back, "lI don't want to."

He set the knife down, turned, and with hands braced on the counter, he kissed her.

The kitchen smelled of detergent, spotless under his care, and Carol even caught a hint of his own scent.

Felix smelled like sunshine and cleanliness, with an undercurrent of coolness buried deep.

Carol's heart raced, her cheeks flushed. It took a half-hour of kissing before she reluctantly headed to the living room.

Felix resumed his kitchen tasks while Carol watched, unblinking from the couch.

blind spot, Felix's expression was muted as if

dinner was ready, he brought it to

to help, Carol accidentally bumped

her hand, blowing on the cut,

she still felt butterflies when

bandage from her finger, led her to the couch, and cleaned

insist she was fine, but

brought soup. Next time, just order delivery.

lips curved, her gaze

feeling sorry

shifted for a moment before

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

washed over her. Good,

Miller. These tasks were not

to her wound, storing the antiseptic back in the

like a shadow,

instead, he pulled her hand, guiding

"Let's eat first."

was certain;

watching him tidy the kitchen, her

unable to help

"Peelan apple.”

two apples from the fridge and leisurely began peeling them in

watched, growing more content by the

cubed apple pieces, she stretched out on his

"Feed me."

at her, a smile

to spoil me, then

fed her a

her eyes, contentedly munching

she lost interest, tilting her

nice.

a typical masculine

once bought her an expensive perfshe adored, carrying it everywhere, even to the

grown up with him and could have been a