Whisper Destiny

Chapter 67

~ Catherine ~

I'm in the middle of preparing dinner, and from the kitchen I can hear the sound of the shower running in the background. The kitchen smells of garlic and cream, a simple yet comforting aroma that fills the space. I glance at my watch—looking at the time and back to the pan in front of me. It wasn't a grand, pre-planned dinner, just something I managed to throw together with the ingredients I grabbed at the market.

The sauce of my pasta bubbles gently in the pan when I hear Natasha's voice behind me.

"It smells amazing in here," she says, her voice warm and playful. I barely have time to turn before she's beside me, her presence filling the space with a subtle heat. Her cheeks are flushed from the shower, strands of damp hair framing her face. She looks radiant, a kind of effortless beauty that makes my heart skip.

"I didn't even hear you coming," I murmur, my voice soft.

She grins, a mischievous spark in her eyes. "That's because you're completely lost in whatever you're making." She leans in, planting a light kiss on my cheek, and though it's a simple act, it sends warmth radiating through me, leaving me craving more. "Honestly, it's making me a little jealous of that pan," she adds, her voice teasing in that familiar, endearing way that always gets to me.

I laugh, shaking my head. "Just trying to get dinner right."

She watches me, a look of gentle adoration softening her features, and I can feel her gaze lingering.

"So, what are you making?" she asks, peeking over my shoulder.

"Chicken Alfredo pasta. I hope you like pasta," I reply, glancing at her with a smile. I try to focus on stirring the sauce, but the way she's looking at me—like I'm the only thing in the room worth noticing—makes it impossible.

She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm not a fussy eater, but I know how to appreciate a good meal. And this smell? Definitely convincing."

Her laughter, light and carefree, makes me feel like everything in this moment is exactly where it's supposed to be. At least for now.

"Anything I can help with?" she asks, nudging me gently with her elbow.

"I'm almost done here," I say, giving the pasta a final stir. "Can you help to set the table? Oh, and bring the dessert from the fridge as well."

"Sure," she says with a casual shrug. As she moves to the fridge, I finally notice what she's wearing—an oversized, baggy shirt paired with boxer shorts. It's such a simple look, yet it stirs something inside me. She looks effortlessly sexy, and for a moment, I'm distracted, my eyes following her across the room.

When she pulls the dessert out of the fridge, she holds it up, her eyes widening with surprise. "Wow, what is this, babe?"

"It's passion fruit posset," I say, turning my attention back to the pasta, trying to sound casual. "It's the only thing I could think of with what little I had on hand."

Natasha raises an eyebrow and grins. "Are you kidding? This is fancy. The only thing you could think of? You make it sound like you didn't just whip up something incredible."

I shrug, giving her a soft smile, feeling a little self-conscious but happy that she's impressed. There's something about her easy praise that makes me feel like I've done something more than just throw a meal together.

She sets the table, her movements easy and natural, while I finish up the pasta. The simple, domestic routine—the clinking of silverware—feels oddly intimate. It's just the two of us, here in this quiet space, and for a moment, the world outside feels far away, irrelevant.