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I open the door for hiet a hit of woodsy cologne, and I swear to god, I swoon That scent is full of er Both for food, and for so much more than that

“Where should I set it up?”

“In the back,” I say, following hiht it with him

He starts placing all the containers out “I e chicken I know that’s your favorite”

“You ree I’ve pushed away our history for so long that it surprises me

“Of course I know that orange chicken is your favorite You love to sleep in on the weekends Your favorite color is purple, and you don’t like country music”

There’s an unexpected burst of emotion that swells up in my chest It feels like too much All of it, and I have to look away as the world blurs in front of row his own herbs and cook That his first favorite book was The Chronicles of Narnia That he’d much rather be outdoors if he can help it A thousandon to bubble up and through et the chance to know him

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his ar around me I close my eyes when he tilts my face up to his so that he doesn’t see my tears But he knows anyway “Are you okay?”

I just lean into hith “I just…I never let myself think about you Because I wanted it too badly Because it hurt to think about you But I res about you, and the fact that you noticed anything about me…I can’t wrap my head around it”

“Why not?”

I can’t find the words They’re there, but I don’t kno to speak someho do you tell so that you’ve ever wanted?