When Storms Collide

~5~

He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking."

-Leo Tolstoy

~~

The coming four days passed quickly.

Sebastian and I settled into an easy routine. His shoulder was still healing but he rarely asked me for help with anything around the house, so my work was limited to cooking for the two of us and sometimes Warren. I suspected that the only reason Sebastian was okay with me doing even that was because he knew I loved it.

He was quiet most of the time but strangely I never felt uncomfortable around him.

Sometimes he'd leave for hours without a word and come back looking like death but he never told me where he'd been or what he did.

I never asked.

The sound of the front door unlocking had my heart racing. I scowled. My heart had been doing that a lot recently.

"Ciao." Sebastian greeted me as he stepped into the kitchen and my traitorous heart raced again.

I turned to look at him and frowned. He looked exhausted. His eyes were dull and his mouth was pulled down.

"Hey." I answered softly.

His eyes lingered on my face for a second before settling on the pot of red sauce I was currently stirring.

"What are you up to?" He asked, his eyes lit up a little which made me smile.

"I'm making Chicken parmigiana." I told him excitedly.

"Smells delicious." He walked up to me and looked over my shoulder. "What can I do to help?"

"You go and get fresh. I've got this." I told him gently.

There it was again. The subtle shock in his demeanor. He hid it quickly but I never missed it, it flashed every time I offered to do the smallest things for him. It made me sad because it made me think of how little kindness the world must've shown this man for him to be shocked by such simple gestures.

I watched his throat move as he swallowed. He stayed there for a moment like he was unsure if he should really go but his shoulders slumped, his exhaustion triumphing. He gave me a nod of gratitude before finally disappearing upstairs to his room.

I exhaled. I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath. Things with Sebastian were always . . . intense.

By the time Sebastian came back dinner was ready. He wore a casual navy blue V-neck sweater which was snug around his biceps with loose black running pants. His hair was damp indicating he had just showered.

He helped me set the table and we ate in comfortable silence which Sebastian broke every now and then to compliment my cooking, making me blush.

"Where did you learn to cook like this? If you don't mind me asking." He asked softly, his eyes filled with genuine interest.

I smiled. "My mother. She loved to cook, she taught me everything." I swallowed trying to swallow down the sadness I suddenly felt.  "She gifted me her whole collection of cookbooks on my eighteenth birthday. She wanted me to go to culinary school and become a certified professional chef." I told him wistfully.

"And you didn't want to go to culinary school?" His voice was laced with surprise.

My eyes met his. His eyebrows were drawn together, his whole concentration on me, like I was a puzzle he was trying to piece together.