Just Pretend

Chapter Thirteen

Jason

I watch Gwen make dinner after a few hours of watching comedies in the living room and I can't help but stand beside her when she moves outside to grill the meat after letting the steaks sit in a homemade marinade for at least an hour.

She knows what she's doing as she flips the steaks over, the delicious smell of cooking meat filling the air and wafting over to where I can hear my sister and her family playing in the yard next door. While my eyes roam the yard, taking in the different types of statues scattered throughout the garden; a gargoyle was sitting in a bed of Poppies while a broken fairy with spikes as wings sits against the far wall, looking at me with an ominous expression.

'Yours?' I ask, nodding to the fairy and Gwen turns slightly to look in the direction I'm nodding. A smile spreads over her face as her eyes land on the fairy and she nods enthusiastically.

'Yup, almost all of the statues in the back- and front yards are mine. Mark isn't a Halloween fan,' she says softly, her eyes flipping to me before falling on the gargoyle and her expression grows fond.

'My mom gave her to me,' she says and I smile at the tone of her voice.

'Are you guys close?' I ask, despite already knowing the answer and she smiles before flipping the steak and pressing down lightly on the meat with the flat of the tongs.

'She's my best friend,' she says by way of explanation and I love the way she talks about her mom; a mix of respect and a deep-seated love that only a mother and daughter can share. She lifts the steak off the grill and places them on a plate before handing it to me and asking if I'll take it inside.

I nod and turn around to see her looking at the statues, a wistful smile on her lips before she turns back to the grill and switching off the gas while I walk inside. She follows behind with a tray of her own and together we head into the kitchen where she puts the tray in her hand on the counter before bending over and opening the oven.

Oh, fuck me.

I bite my lip and fight back the image of me buried deep inside of her with my hands digging into her hips, and turn away from her, busying myself with something to take my mind – and cock – off it. When she asks me to get the plates from the cabinet, I take the opportunity to tease her a little.

'Whar? Are you too short to get there?' she spins away from the oven with a pot in her hands and glares at me with blazing blue eyes, that sparkle with underlying amusement.

'Yes, I'm too short! I can just reach the middle shelf of that cabinet,' she points to the same cabinet I'd seen her at this morning, balancing the bottom of the pot on her knee and I can't help but laugh as I walk to it and pull two plates from the cabinet. She asks me to get two side plates while she reaches under me to slide the two plates, I already pulled out, towards her. She plates the steak with a small smile playing at her lips, her eyes cast downwards towards the food.

I place the two smaller plates beside her and she thanks me with a brilliant smile before placing a baked potato she's conjured from somewhere in the middle of each and pulls a knife from the stand on the counter, cutting it open with a billow of steam.

While they take a moment to cool, I watch, entranced at the first woman, besides my mom, to willingly cook for me, move to the fridge and pull out a tub of sour cream and a stick of butter. My mouth starts watering as she puts them in the crook of her elbow and pulls out a stem of spring onion. She chops the spring onion quickly and then plates the rest of the food, the carrots I requested the only bright colour on a delicious-looking plate.

'So, tell me, Gwen, what did I do to deserve this?' I ask, picking up my plate that she indicates with the tilt of her head, and she lifts her eyes to mine before lowering them to the plate in her hands as we start making our way out of the kitchen and into the living room.