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“I could ask you the same thing,” Jack says, pushing off the island and coming to sit on an empty chair opposite me. “Everything all right?” He points at my cell.

“Message from Tyler. I took your advice, and I’m meeting him tomorrow. He says he wants to clear the air between us. I’m happy to hear him out, but my main objective is getting his stuff back to him and closing this chapter of my life.”

Maybe it could be described as relief on Jack’s face. Whatever it is, I can tell he thinks I’m making the right decision.

“You hungry?” I ask.

“Starving.”

I thumb over my shoulder to the kitchen. “I’m not exactly Chef Ramsay, but I made a chili earlier and set some aside for you. Just needs to be reheated. That is, if chili is your thing? Because I personally love it.”

A smile I’m starting to become familiar with spreads across Jack’s face. “I love chili.”

I rise from the couch and pad toward the kitchen, pulling down my long T-shirt, which falls just below my sleep shorts.

When I turn around to ask about sides, Jack’s head is bent over and between his shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re good?”

He keeps his head down and nods once. “Yep. I just have a headache coming on. Probably because I’m hungry.”

“Well, I can definitely help with that,” I say turning to the burner and firing it up. “And I’m sorry if it’s shit,” I shout.

“Whoa, okay. Now I’m deaf as well as starved,” Jack muses from behind me as he peers over my shoulder and into the pan.

From the second I started living with him, I haven’t been able to figure out the earthy scent filling his apartment, but from this proximity, I realize it’s his cologne.

My senses tingle as I grab a ladle and stir the chili.

“Can you cook?” I ask.

He pulls off his jacket and throws it over a barstool, then spins around and opens a top cupboard, fetching out a bowl.

“I’m not bad. My mum, Felicity, and Jon are insanely good in the kitchen, and a lot of their relationship revolves around cooking and going out for meals. Jon’s in the process of buying an Italian restaurant in Seattle. It came up for sale a few months back, and it’s always been a popular hangout for him and his friends. I guess their passion has rubbed off on me and Darce.”

When the chili starts to bubble, I spoon it into the bowl, and Jack adds corn chips and sour cream.

“I think I might like your sister; she sounds like my kind of girl with a love for food and candles.”

With the ladle still in my hand, I look up and find Jack hovering over me. At six-four, he’s a similar height to Tyler, but something about Jack’s presence feels way more dominant. And not in a bad way.

“Chili’s ready,” I whisper.

Jack holds his bowl in a vise grip, and his voice is gravelly as he says, “I’ll have to cook for you sometime.”

We’re only inches apart as I stand motionless, the ladle still in my hand, hovering midair.

“What kinds of things do you like? I’m thinking a British classic,” I say, trying to summon my best accent.

He grins playfully. “Well, we’ve established that you don’t mind scones, so maybe we’ll switch it up and try something savory. Shepherd’s pie maybe.”

My eyes flick over to the TV,Friendsstill playing in the background. “That’s probably my favorite episode—the one where Rachel gets the pages stuck together and mixes a pie with some random jelly dessert.”

Jack continues to smile down at me as his breath fans my face. “Trifle, Hart. She makes half a trifle and half a shepherd’s pie.”

Every part of me feels like jelly as Jack’s usually bright blue eyes turn darker.

As if checking himself, he shakes his head briefly and refocuses on the bowl still in his hand. “What time are you meeting Tyler tomorrow?”