Nathan woke up half past nine, so I ended up preheating another soup. I called my mom and asked her how to make a chicken soup. However, she offered to come over and make it herself instead. She said it was the least she can do, but I have a feeling she doesn't trust me cooking in Nathan's kitchen. Or anyone's kitchen for that matter.

I hear the shower running and by the time it shut off, I was in the middle of ladling the soup to a bowl. I set it on the table.

He comes, shuffling his way in, phone in hand. His hair is a wet mess and his eyes gone round when he sees the steaming soup on the table.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." I beamed.

Nathan blinks, disbelief in his eyes. "You made that?"

"Actually, that's not a term I would use. It's more like, I preheated." I pull a chair for him and gesture him to take a seat. "I know your appetite is still off, but you need to eat."

He slowly descended to his seat and picks up the spoon. "What exactly is this soup?"

"Don't worry. It's edible. Mom made it."

His head snapped to me. "You called her?" He sounded embarrassed.

"Yes. It's either that or you're eating one of my greatest inventions." I walk around the table and sat across from him. "I was thinking I could boil a raw chicken and it'll be a chicken soup then."

Nathan laughs softly. "That's reasonable enough."

I glided my eyes over him. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a T-shirt that strains across a well muscled chest. Annndd, I had to stop myself there.

He typed quickly on his phone then set it down next to his bowl of soup. "I'm sorry. I'm out dying for two days and my job doesn't relent."

"Hey, at least one of us has a job." I grinned.

He shot me a look. "Which wouldn't have to be the case if a particular someone agreed I take a time off to keep her company."

"Well, she doesn't want to be burden."

He snorted. "Burden? Tell her she's actually doing him a favor. I need a little vacation too."

I giggled at that. "How are you?"

He takes one sip of the soup. "I feel like death is no longer knocking at my door. So, I think that means 'better.'"

I nod. "And I'm the happiest person to hear that."

Nathan expelled a laugh. He submerges the spoon to the bowl, staring. The sun flooded the kitchen so it's accurate to say he's openly skimming me over in broad daylight.

"Is there something wrong with the soup?" I hid my discomfort underneath a teasing smile. "I swear, if there's anything I contributed to the making of that soup, it's just my stirring."

His eyes tendered. "You stayed."

"Of course, I did. Who would look after you?"

"Right. Lucky me." He winks.

I laugh, my cheeks in flames.

Oh, God. Now I'm blushing like a schoolgirl.

He holds me in his blue gaze. They warmed as if he actually liked putting the colors in my cheeks.

We shared a secret smile.

We hadn't talked about it. Not the kiss last night. Not the kiss the other night. Not any of it. We're torn between two things: talk about it and jinx whatever was about to unfold or not talk about it and let it remain as the unspoken "something."

The doorbell rings, breaking the spell. I drag my palms down to my jean-clad thighs in an attempt to shake myself loose entirely from the spell. "Do you want me to get the door for you?"

He smiles. "Yes, please."

I slid myself out of my seat and happily march out of the kitchen only to have cold water poured over me when I opened the door.

It's Sydney.

Her brows lifted as though questioning my presence in the household.

"Hi." I forced my lips to curve. "He's in the kitchen. Come in." I opened the door further.

Sydney comes and followed me to the kitchen without a word.

"Nathan, Sydney's here."

He looks up, then sported a confused frown. "Hi. Didn't you get my email? Spencer and Reese are covering for me in the next two days."

Nathan communicates with her through emails.

Emails. Not texts.

My heart did a happy flip.

Something flared in her eyes, but she shut it off quickly and replaced it with a huge smile. "I know. I heard you were not feeling well, so I came by. Your cousins Spencer and Reese told me."

"Oh. I'm fine. Just need a little rest." His tone was friendly. "As you can see, my nurse did a pretty great job," he quips.

Sydney lets out a laugh that sounded a little forced to my ears. "She cooked?"

"It's a long story." He chuckles.

She nods, her smile pinched now.

Nathan's phone rings. His eyes found mine. "Sorry. I have to take this."

"Sure," I chirped.

He disappeared through the sliding doors. The moment he was gone, the air in his kitchen turned disagreeable and overly dense on my shoulders.

Sydney puts her bag on the table. "Thank you for coming in for his rescue. And for cooking."

"You don't have to thank me, really."

"I have to. He seemed happy." She looks down to the soup, eyes fleeting to me.

My arms tucked over my chest as I leaned against the counter. Sydney William's silence held more judgment than words ever will. My teeth grit. "My mother cooked the same chicken soup when my sister and I get sick. It's not for five-star restaurants."

"And you learned from her?" She smiles.

Very rarely do I feel such a strong urge to scratch the smile off someone's face. "No. She cooked it herself. I never learn."

"Oh." She puts the bowl to the sink then murmurs, "thought so."

"Yeah, you'll be surprised how terrible cooking really gets way faster to a man's heart than a five-star cooking." And I have the guts to not hide this under a murmur.

She visibly flinched. When she turned back around, the smile was gone. It was hanging by a thread anyway. "Some of us have to learn to cook for themselves. They don't hand over rich parents to everyone."

"They don't have to begrudge them of their "rich parents."" I look back to the icy glare she threw smack on my face. "Don't play this card on me again."

She lets out a harsh laugh. "You know what, I'll try to be the adult here and ignore that."

"And that card too."

"Listen, Chassie George," she began slowly like I was a toddler, "I understand that you're going through a phase. This is just all typical." She gestured her hands to me.

"Chassie, all I'm saying is that it's typical for someone like you to want back something you left to rot. And it's typical for someone like Nathan to believe that you mean to stay this time."

My eyes shrunk into slits. "And it's typical for someone like you to judge everybody because you're better than everyone?"

"Oh, no. Not everyone. Just you." She stepped toward me, several inches taller in her sky-high heels. "You're a taker, Chassie. You take. And if things don't go your way, you lash out. Of course, you had your daddy's wallet to take care of collateral damage. But daddy's wallet couldn't fix your indecision with your internships. You were a mess. Then Nathan's matrimonial wallet couldn't fix it either, so you dispose of him too."

My chest stung with several gashes from the cruel, jagged edges of her words.

"Oh, and let me guess, you decided to leave and end up with a "soaring" career in a crappy newspaper you wished mommy and daddy bought up so people are nicer to you," she says brightly, batting her lashes. Her laugh was vile.

A shard rises in my throat.

She sighed. "Okay, now we had cleared that part up, I guess I'm gonna have to tell you I came here to tell Nathan we can move on to the next level."

The ringing in my ears drowned out whatever else she has to say to spite me. There's a stinging prick in the corners of my eyes. Then another. Followed by another.

It wasn't until her face threatened to blur that I realized she won. She won this round.

Nathan comes back in. I keep my head turned away as I wrestled with the brimming tears.

My phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans and I took it out with shaking fingers. I never been thankful I had a text from Kathie than I am now.

I cleared my throat. "I have to go. I have to pick up Ethan from Kathie's place." I gambled the briefest glance toward Nathan and found him staring at me questioningly.

I try not to keep eye contact. Even when I feel his gaze on me.

"Okay. I'll walk you out," Nathan finally says.

I could only shake my head.

"Bye." My eyes watered more as I force myself to say it. I turn away, the first betraying tear rolling down my cheek.