“Good. Well, if that's the case, maybe we could get dinner started a little early. What do you say? Wanna put on something more appropriate and come hang out with me in the kitchen?”

“Sounds good,” I reply, closing the book and setting it on the couch next to me. To be honest, I’d much rather keep reading, but Vance is here now and we do need more time together, so I smile and stand up. “You go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the kitchen, and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Vance replies before leaning in for a quick kiss, but he turns his head so I miss his lips and hit his cheek. As he turns to walk away, I aim my body toward the bedroom, and speed walk out of the room.

Well, I wasn’t expecting my plans to get messed up like this, but now that Vance has shown up out of the blue, I guess I’ll have to get back to The Patient later. I hear pots and pans being shuffled around in my kitchen as I start up my shower and hop in. I speed my way through it so Vance won’t have to be in there alone for very long, choosing light gray leggings, a white tank top, and a black and gray flannel as tonight’s attire. When I go back into the living room, I see Vance in the kitchen with his back facing me. Whatever he’s cooking actually smells really good, and he looks to be in the zone, so instead of taking him out of it, I quietly go into the living room and sit down on the couch. The cover of The Patient stares at me, begging for my attention like a child longing to be played with, and my hands pick it up to give the darkness what it wasn’t allowed to have before Vance burst through the door. I get through half a page before I hear a loud clang erupt from the kitchen, and I look up to find Vance staring at me as steam shoots up to the ceiling from the sink.

“I thought you were gonna come hang out with me in the kitchen,” he says, his voice teeming with attitude.

“Oh, I was. You just looked like you were locked in, so I didn’t want to interrupt,” I try to explain, but I can tell he isn’t feeling that response.

“Alina, can you just put the book down and come in here?” he says, before turning on the faucet and filling the room with the sound of water sizzling in the pan below him. Part of me wants to throw the book at his face, but I’d never hurt a book that way, so I gently set it down on the coffee table and walk into the kitchen.