“I was sure I’d find condoms, but this was a nice surprise.” I pop one of the sweet treats in my mouth and leave the wrapper on the nightstand, knowing Chase tends to want things to be tidy.

“This isn’t a fuck pad, Emily.” His playfulness quickly fades away. “Food’s ready.”

“That was fast.”

“Mom had some stuff I could heat up. I picked the lasagna. I know it’s your favorite of hers.” He puts his hand on my back to guide me out of the bedroom.

How does he remember that’s my favorite? It’s been years since I went over to his family home. But he’s right: his mom’s lasagna is my favorite. She always made it with only chopped hamburger meat and didn’t add sausage like most people do.

“You don’t have a table.” I laugh when we pass the empty dining room.

“We never used the dining room.” No, at his home, they never did. Cooking was a part of the whole dinner process, and everyone ate at the giant kitchen island. Not everyone cooked, but they would still hang out while the others did. I always loved that they all enjoyed spending time with each other. It was nice to see a functional family, and it was a break when I was younger from my dysfunctional one.

“Two chairs.”

“Only two people.” He pulls one out for me. I sit, placing the napkin on my lap. I force myself to take a bite of the lasagna, but the second it hits my lips, so many memories come flying back to me of being back in his old home. In minutes, I have my plate cleaned. “You should stay the night. It’s late. We’ll drive your car home tomorrow, and I’ll have one of my drivers pick me up.”

“Stay the night here?” A squeak. “Your bedrooms are all empty, and I don’t know what’s happened on that sofa.” I point to the giant leather sectional. “Or your bed.”

Chase drops our dishes into the sink, making me jump at how hard they land. I wonder if they broke. “This isn’t a fuck pad.” I roll my eyes.

“Roll your eyes again, little girl, and you’ll regret it.” All the air leaves my lungs as an expression I’ve never seen before crosses Chase’s face. I want to push, but for some reason, I don’t.

“Okay, I’ll stay. I need to be home early—”