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“Anyway.” Erik’s expression closes up again. “This looks like an interesting show. They’re competing to make the fanciest desserts, or something?”

“Pretty much.” I turn my attention to the show for a second. “They’re given challenges. Like making a dessert out of five kinds of chocolate. Or only being able to use four ingredients. There are three rounds, and the winner gets to move on to the final competition.”

“Hmm.” Erik watches while the judges pick apart the poor contestant’s cake for being too dry and using too much sugar. “So you enjoy baking, right? Would you want to be on a show like this?”

Tucking my legs up against me, I turn towards him. “No, I wouldn’t want to be on TV. Or compete against other people. I just find baking relaxing. Growing up, I used to bake with my mom all the time. So I guess it’s kind of a way for me to remember her, too.”

“Tate.” Sympathy creases his features. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. My mom got sick about ten years ago. Pneumonia. She didn’t realize how sick she was until it was too late. It was hard. We were really close. But with time… You know. It gets easier.”

“Still.” Erik’s hand twitches towards mine before pulling away. “My mom died when I was little. A car accident. My dad passed when I was twenty-five. So I know how hard it is.”

A beat later, he blinks. Grimaces. “Shit. Sorry, Tate. I shouldn’t be talking about this kind of stuff. Not tonight. We should be talking about nice things. Like whatever that woman is making.” He nods at the TV. “They look pretty good, actually.”

“Oh, those are macarons. I can make those. If you want.”

“Really?” His eyes light up. “Plusthe fudge dipped peanut butter chocolate chip cookies?”

I grin at him, feeling more cheerful than I have in days. “I could definitely make both. I just need the right ingredients.”

“Just tell me what you need.” Erik stops. “But not yet. Maybe in a few days. You need your rest.”

With a little snort, I reply, “I’m not sure how much sleep I’ll be getting for a while.”

Erik winces, and I immediately regret what I said. “I mean. It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll get some sleep tonight. I’ll just watch cooking shows until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.”

An unhappy look crosses his face. A few seconds pass while thoughts work in his eyes. Then, slowly, he asks, “Would it help if I stayed here tonight? Just on the couch? So you know you’re not alone?”

Hope flares bright, but I ruthlessly tamp it down. “Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you?—”

“You’re not asking, Tate. I’m offering.” He stops. “And honestly, I’m not sure how well I’ll sleep back in my apartment, knowing… Well. It would make me feel better, too.”

My silly heart flips over, even though it has no right to.

A little voice in my head warns,Be careful. You know this can’t go anywhere.

I know it. But right now, I don’t care.

Meeting Erik’s questioning gaze, I nod. “I’d really like that. If you stayed. And maybe… I could find some snacks in the kitchen? If you’re hungry? Since we’re watching a cooking show and all?”

Augh. I sound like an idiot who can’t form complete sentences.

But lovely Erik doesn’t seem to mind.

He just smiles at me. Then he pats my hand. “I think that sounds like a great idea. But I’ll get the snacks. You stay here and rest. I’ll grab you some painkillers, too. I’m guessing you still have a headache.”

Oh.

It’s hard to speak past the sudden lump in my throat. “That sounds really nice.”

As Erik gets up to go into the kitchen, that same irritating voice reminds me,This can’t go anywhere. You know it can’t.

Maybe not.

But just for a second, I wish it could.

CHAPTER 9