We finish off half the container of salsa, then the oven beeps. Sebastian removes the enchiladas and orders, "Come here."

I step next to him.

He leans down and wafts the steam toward his face. "You have to smell it."

"I already can. It's making me hungry," I declare.

"Nope! You have to inhale it, Sunshine," he asserts.

I humor him, take a deep breath, and then look up. "You're right. It smells even more amazing!"

"Right?"

"Totally!"

He kisses me on the top of my head and murmurs, "Wait until this hits your tongue." He fills a plate, hands it to me, then makes one for himself.

We sit at the table, and he opens two bottles of Mexican beer.

I hold mine out. "Cheers."

He clinks my bottle, repeats, "Cheers," and we both take a sip.

I take a bite of the enchilada and say, "You were right. This has to be the best in Texas."

His eyes sparkle brighter. He watches me eat a few bites, then takes one himself. He groans.

I laugh. "You look like you're in heaven right now."

He locks his blues to mine. "I am."

"All it takes is some enchiladas and a good beer, huh?" I tease.

His face turns serious. "And you."

My heart swoons, and my chest tightens. I scold myself for my mixed emotions. Being here with Sebastian is dangerous. It feels like nothing bad happened between us, but it did.

I still love him.

I can't let him hurt me again.

He takes a chip, adds enchilada to it, then holds it in front of my mouth, ordering, "Try it this way."

I bite it and nod. I chew, then swallow. "Yum."

For the rest of the meal, we keep our conversation light. Then he fixes a piece of pecan pie for me exactly how I like it.

After we clean the kitchen and do the dishes, the awkwardness reappears. I don't want to leave but convince myself it's best. I force a smile and say, "I should get going."

He clenches his jaw and stares at me.

"Thanks for dinner. It was nice seeing you," I add.

"You can't go yet."

I turn, speechless, unable to move or figure out what to say. I know I should go. But the part of me that doesn't want to be without Sebastian won't let me budge an inch.

He takes my hand and tugs me to the couch. "There's a marathon on."

"Oh?" I question. My flutters do the happy dance at the possibility of staying.

He points, challenging, "Sit, and you'll see."

I don't argue and obey.