I know I chose cooking as a profession. But between the diner, the inn, and Brenden’s kitchen, it’s feeling like I’m doomed to spend my life chained to a stove. Cooking for Brenden and May, though, gives me a sense of satisfaction I don’t get when I’m cooking for work, which makes the burnout worth it. This may be part of a show for May’s grandparents, but I like knowing that she and Brenden are getting some nutrients in them for once. Lord knows how they survive on all the processed, packaged crap they eat all the time.

Since Brenden isn’t home from work yet, he gets no say in what I’m making. I know he’ll like it, but I’m prepared for at least one complaint about vegetables anyway.

Grant is in the living room reading a newspaper. He must have gone out of town to pick it up, since all you can find here is the Mayweather Gazette, which barely qualifies as a paper.

Elise asked if she could help me in the kitchen, though I politely declined, telling her to enjoy her time with May. She’s been nothing but nice to me, but let’s face it. I’m not a people person. I can only take so much small talk.

She and May are now in the backyard planting something. (I fear for the life of whatever it is if Brenden ends up in charge of tending to it after Elise leaves.) I’ve been watching them through the window as I cook, and it’s clear how much Elise adores her granddaughter. It makes me wonder why she and Grant don’t visit more often.

This family dynamic is none of my business, though, even if Brenden essentially dragged me into it.

As I chop broccoli, letting my alfredo sauce simmer, I have time to contemplate what I’m doing here. In Brenden’s house. Playing his fake boyfriend. It’s what I agreed to, and we seem to be doing a great job of making Elise and Grant buy it. But I’m starting to worry that I’ve set myself up for unnecessary pain.

I think I might be leaning into my role a little too much. And I’m definitely enjoying it too much. Just simply the permission to touch and kiss Brenden was enough to have me wishing this was real. Now that we’ve added orgasms into the mix...

It's too good. And it's getting harder and harder to imagine going back to my old life where I’m grumpy and alone all the time, and where he’s just a friend I only sometimes see outside of the diner.

A commotion from the living room breaks me out of my thoughts. It sounds like Grant is arguing with someone. I turn off the burner before running out there to see what’s going on.