“Huh,” she said, standing beside him and looking down. “It’s weird to see you cook.”

“I only do breakfast food. It’s not a meal we’ve shared very often.”

She leaned back against the counter and looked at him. His outfit matched hers, his sweatpants navy instead of gray, his shirt white instead of black. But of course they fit him a hell of a lot better.

A glimpse of her future, she realized. A lot of mornings just like this one lay ahead of her, and the thought made her almost unbearably happy, until something dark and worrisome began to lurk beneath the surface.

She looked down at her cup. “These are the cooking skills you picked up while with Elizabeth?”

He gave her a sideways glance. Curious, but not wary.

She shrugged in response. “You told me you learned to cook for her. To show off your husband potential.”

“I didn’t phrase it quite like that,” he said, moving to the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs. “But yeah. I used to cook breakfast for Elizabeth before she left for work.”

Audrey felt an uncomfortable, unfamiliar stab of jealousy that she promptly shoved aside.

“Elizabeth came to see me.”

Clarke’s hand stilled for a moment, then he put the carton of eggs on the counter without opening it. “When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Before you came over here?”

She shook her head. “No, Clarke. I had sex with you, waited until you fell asleep, got dressed, raced home, chatted with your ex-girlfriend, then raced back here.”

He pointed a spatula at her. “Sarcasm in the mornings. This is my future?”

She smiled. “Having second thoughts?”

Clarke surprised her by reaching out and grabbing a handful of her T-shirt—well, his T-shirt—and hauling her toward him for a kiss. “Absolutely not. You?”

She smiled against his mouth. “Absolutely not. But about Elizabeth…”

He groaned and released her. “Fine. What about her?”

“I do think maybe I misjudged her—or we did. I thought she was just competitive, wanting what she couldn’t have, wanting to prove that she could get you back… I dunno. I guess I turned her into a villain, and I don’t think she was one.”

She looked at her coffee mug once more, losing a little of her courage. “She’s in love with you.”

Clarke said nothing as he shoved the mushrooms around the pan, and Audrey looked up, watching him.

“You knew,” she said quietly. “You knew that it wasn’t just a game to her.”

“I suspected,” he said quietly. “Though I kept hoping it wasn’t the case.”

“Because you weren’t in love with her.”

Clarke set the spatula on the spoon rest without releasing it and stared down at the sizzling mushrooms. “No, I don’t really do that kind of love.”