Chapter 81
He said, “I’m not interrupting if you’re busy. Just say so.”
“Not at all. Only an idea. What do you need me to do? Can I help set up? Oh—I was also thinking perhaps I’d make that pasta you like, with the lemon and pepper sauce? Later, I mean, for dinner.”
“You’ve made dinner the last five nights. And breakfast in the mornings. It’s my turn. Or we can order something.” Come to think of it, Colby had been doing most of the cooking. With Jason’s help, of course. But Colby came up with ideas, volunteered to start, and generally thought about meals more in advance. And had, without exception, been picking everything Jason liked.
He sat down on the sofa. Rain flung itself at the dim cool glass of the tall open windows; Southern California shimmered darkly beyond. “What were you working on?”
“Just some writing.” Colby unfolded long legs and leaned over to kiss him. Jason always wanted to kiss Colby, and did so now, but kept it gentle and brief, drawing back.