Chapter 4

Wilfrid kissed me—serious this time—and said, "Bonnie, we've got a home now."

I buried my face in his chest and cried like crazy.

He had no idea—I'd just come back from the hospital with my test results. I had cancer.

After I got sick, I tried everything—took all my meds, followed every treatment. But it barely made a difference.

I wasn't lucky. The doctor told me I had less than a month left. I didn't want to die.

Wilfrid and I had just started building our future. I didn't want it all to end so soon.

The day he found my test results tucked away in the closet, I saw him freeze.

Then he stepped out onto the balcony and just stood there, smoking in silence.

After a long while, I watched him lean against the wall, cover his face, and cry without making a sound. His whole body was trembling.

When he finally calmed down, he came back to the bed and knelt beside me.

He held my hand and kissed it over and over. The back of my hand was soaked.

He thought I was asleep. "Bonnie," he whispered, "don't be scared. Even if it's death, I'll go with you."

But I clapped my hand over his mouth. "Wilfrid."

I looked him dead in the eye and made him a promise. "If you even think about doing anything stupid because of me, I'll never forgive you."

I pointed at Dobby, who was lying on the carpet by the bed. "You still have Dobby. If you die with me, he won't have anyone left. He's already so old. What if some awful person takes him and sells him?"

I made him promise me right then. That was the first time I'd ever seen Wilfrid down on his knees, crying so hard and looking so lost.

Just thinking about all of that again almost brought me to tears.

I was about to say something—anything—to the Wilfrid standing in front of me now, but then Anna showed up.

She walked in holding a stack of papers and started talking to him about some company stuff.

Wilfrid listened without saying much, glancing down every now and then to play with Dobby.

Then Anna noticed me standing nearby. She kept talking and said, "Mr. Reynolds came home early. He does that a lot. Don't just stand there—go make dinner. Remember—"

Before she could finish, I automatically said, "Use less oil and salt. He doesn't eat cilantro and is allergic to strawberries and eggs, right?"

Everything fell silent for a second. Both Anna and Wilfrid turned to look at me.

There was a shift in Wilfrid's eyes as he looked at me.

I jumped in to explain, "Oh, the person who got me this job gave me some background info. I memorized all of it."

But Anna didn't look convinced. "The new chef's starting in a few days. Why go that far and memorize everything?"

Wilfrid's stare made me uneasy. I quickly added, "The company has strict rules. Even though I'm only here for a few days, I have to learn it all."

Anna looked like she still had more to say, but Wilfrid changed the subject. "Go get tomorrow's meeting schedule."

She had no choice but to drop it. "Okay, I'll grab it from the car."

For some reason, I got the feeling Anna didn't like me very much.

But I didn't have time to dwell on it—I headed into the kitchen to make dinner.

I was never any good at cooking. All those years with Wilfrid, and I still hadn't figured it out.

He was always busy with work and studying, but when it came time to eat, he'd still make time to cook with me.

I remember one time he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open.

I told him to lie down for a bit. But while he was resting, I ended up burning the pasta.

I panicked, not knowing how to fix it. Then Wilfrid came out, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, giving me this lazy smile.

Seeing how flustered I was, he walked over, tossed in a few cloves of garlic and some chopped green onions, and saved the whole dish.

"That's it, huh?" I asked, not totally buying it.

Wilfrid just smiled without answering. Then he turned and kissed me—slow and gentle.

Those memories hit me all over again.

Back in the kitchen, the pasta was starting to burn. I quickly threw in some chopped green onions and garlic before anyone noticed.

After a bit, I couldn't even smell the burnt part anymore.

Once everything was done, I brought the food out and set the table.

The moment Anna saw it, her eyes almost popped out of her head. "This is what you're serving Mr. Reynolds, huh? Just plain old home-cooked food?"

I froze. I didn't get what was wrong with it. This really was the best I could do.

I thought maybe now that Wilfrid had money, he only ate high-end restaurant meals. Or maybe homemade food wasn't good enough for him anymore?

Anna rolled her eyes. "This stuff is greasy and way too basic."

"Forget it. I'll call the cook and tell her to hurry to come," Anna said.

"No need," Wilfrid replied, walking over and sitting down at the table. "Home-cooked food's fine."

He looked at the dishes and took a bite. Then he paused.