A little choked up, I simply nodded and followed him to the kitchen area. When had my Nico grown so mature? He was always observant and introspective, but after seeing bouts of his temper, I hadn’t realized just how levelheaded he still was.

We gathered the fixings for some simple pasta with meat sauce and a salad. Nico cooked the ground beef while I washed vegetables, all with relaxing music playing in the background. Every now and then, my gaze would collide with his or we’d both reach for something at the same time, and the innocent flirtation brought me back to our high school days—the times when the charge between us was building, promising to create something beautiful.

The food was ready too quickly, putting an end to the simplicity of the moment. We made our plates and sat at his dining table, Nico taking the head of the table so as to sit next to me rather than across.

I moaned with my first bite, savoring the delicious spices. “This is amazing. How did you learn to cook so well?”

“It’s my mom’s recipe. When she moved out, I spent a lot of time with her at her new place. She taught me all my favorites, and I made sure she didn’t go back to my dad.”

“What made her finally decide to leave?” His father was an ass, but she’d been with him for so long, I’d doubted she would ever leave.

“She figured out I wasn’t going to school, so I told her what had happened. I told her everything. She spent the next month getting ready and never looked back. I worried she might waver. It wasn’t easy going out on her own after so long, but she was a trooper. Now, she wishes she’d walked away years earlier.”

I nodded, taking a sip of the wine he’d brought out with our plates. “Change is hard. Even when it’s good change, it can still be scary.”

My eyes flitted to his briefly before dropping back to my food. We spent the next few minutes eating together in silence. It wasn’t totally comfortable, but less tense than our time in the car. Eventually, we both set our forks down, and Nico rose, reaching out for my hand.

“Let’s leave the dishes, they can wait.”

I didn’t argue. Allowing him to help me from my seat, I placed my hand in his and followed him to the living area where he gestured for me to have a seat on the couch with him. My legs naturally angled in toward him, and he turned his body toward mine, resting his arm over the back of the sofa.

“Sofia, you can’t keep running from me. This thing between us is still very much alive. I know you feel it too.”

Before arriving, I had promised myself I’d give him the truth, no matter how terrifying. “I do feel it,” I confided softly. “And I want you to know that I forgive you for what happened. Now that I know your reasons, I understand why you did what you did. We were both at fault—too many secrets coming between us.”