“Let me cook you
dinner, Bella,” Edward said, handing her a glass of wine.
“You
can cook?” Bella asked.
“One of my many
talents,” Edward smirked. “I lived with Garrett, and he could burn water.”
“How
does he survive on his own?” Bella giggled, sipping her wine.
“Lots of takeout,”
Edward deadpanned, grabbing some chicken from the fridge along with some
veggies. “He’s a health nut, though. Most guys would go for Taco Bell or
McDonald’s. He lives for healthier stuff. Plus, he runs marathons and works out
almost daily, even with our jobs being as physically tasking as they are. My
guess is he’s probably at the gym, pumping some iron, and then he’ll be back
around ten with his bag.”
“We did
act like bums today,” Bella said, arching a brow.
“We
did, but I think we deserved it,” Edward replied, winking at her. “Even I’m
sore. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”
“Blissfully
sore,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “But, I’m not complaining. I haven’t felt
this loved ever.”
Edward beamed, not
responding to her “loved” statement. He pulled out a bowl, a cutting board, and
a knife from different cabinets and began dicing the chicken breasts. “Are you
happy with the house?”
“Edward,
words cannot describe how much I love it,” she breathed. “It’s exactly what I
pictured when I first saw it. You and Garrett are artists.”
“Thank
you,” Edward blushed, tossing some
vegetables into the bowl. “I’m glad we could do this
for you. I know Garrett asked if we could photograph it for our site.”
“And
you can,” Bella reiterated.
“You
don’t mind? It won’t invade your privacy?” Edward asked. Bella shook her head
adamantly.
“Well, before I turn in my key, I’ll take some photos next week.”
“Who said I want you to turn in your key?” Bella asked, looking up at him through her long lashes.
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