Page 10 of Babydaddy To Go

Alyssa giggles and leans into my shoulder. “Thanks, Nate.”

I could stay like this all night, but Alyssa’s rumbling stomach reminds me that we haven’t eaten yet.

“What do you say we stop at a grocery store and head to your apartment to make dinner?”

“Really? I thought you loved visiting different restaurants in the city.”

“I do, but I love to cook, too. It’ll be good practice before you start school tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Alyssa says. “Let’s do it. I’ll have to warn you, though. My kitchen isn’t exactly a five-star restaurant. It has the necessities but not much else.”

“We’ll make it work,” I promise.

We decide to walk on the street rather than back through the park this time. We both figure we’ll have better luck finding a grocery store this way.

“What’s your favorite food?” I ask when we find a small food store a few blocks from Alyssa’s apartment.

She thinks about it for a second. “My grandmother makes really great spaghetti, but I had that last night. I think my second favorite is probably… shredded chicken tacos with homemade guac.”

“Sounds delicious. Let’s make that for dinner.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, let’s do it. You get the chicken and guac supplies and I’ll get the other ingredients. We’ll meet at the front in, say, ten minutes?”

“Aye aye, captain!” she says, then immediately blushes. “I don’t know why I just said that.”

“It was cute,” I tell her. “Now go get your ingredients!”

I manage to gather everything up first, but Alyssa joins me by the registers soon after. She tries to pay for our groceries since we’re going to her apartment, but I insist on footing the bill. If we’d gone out, I’d have paid, so it’s only fitting I pay for the fixings for dinner.

We put all our groceries into easy-to-carry reusable bags and finish the short walk to Alyssa’s apartment.

“It’s not much,” Alyssa tells me when she unlocks the door. “I haven’t had a chance to really settle in.”

The apartment is much smaller than I’m used to. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived anywhere that has less than five bedrooms. My current house has six.

Despite its quaint size, the apartment feels homey. She may not have had time to settle in, but Alyssa made sure to put out photos of herself with an older couple – probably her grandparents.

“This place is great,” I say. “Where’s the kitchen?”

Alyssa leads me behind a divider wall and into what passes for a kitchen in a tiny New York apartment. There’s hardly room for the fridge, oven/stove, and a sink. This is going to be a tight squeeze, and I’m not upset about it.

“Why don’t you get started on the guac and I’ll get the chicken going?”

She nods. “I’m on it.”

I toss the chicken in my own herb blend and start cooking it down on the stove top. While that simmers, I glance over at Alyssa’s work station. She’s attempting to cut a tomato with a regular knife.

There’s a bread knife on her counter, so I slide behind Alyssa and hand it to her. “Try this,” I say into her ear. “It’s a lot easier for cutting tomatoes.”

I guide her hand in even strokes through the tomato. Together we get it into small cubes, perfect for the guacamole.

“Thanks,” Alyssa breathes.

She tilts her head so our eyes meet. I am so tempted to kiss her right now. Even more tempted to push her up against the counter and have my way with her. I can’t do either of these things, at least not yet. I don’t want to get kicked out of the apartment – and out of her life – for moving too fast. I like Alyssa too much to scare her away. She’s so shy and innocent. If I’m overly eager, I might lose her before I’ve even gotten her.

“You’re good at this,” Alyssa says. Her cheeks are returning to normal after her heavy blush, but she hasn’t moved away from me. My body is still pressed up against her back. “Where did you learn to cook?”