Worse for Love- Book #3 in the WF Series

Chapter 46: Door

❀ Ivy's POV ❀

A few weeks later:

"You're doing great," I encourage while sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Thank you for the moral support," Kai dryly responds.

"Of course. Don't mention it."

I brought up how I was craving Phở before I left for work and what do you know? He's making it when I came home. He's lucky I didn't get the idea before he did, otherwise, this entire apartment may have been burned to the ground.

Everything has actually not been awful as you can tell by the gourmet chef standing beside me. I'm here for only a little while longer so I've been trying to make the most of it.

Work is going great. I've made some friends, new designs, and learned a shit ton of new things that I don't think college could've ever taught me. It's hard though, working in a different country. I never wanted to be the person who went somewhere and couldn't speak the native language, but the job was offered on such short notice that I didn't have time to prepare. That's why I signed up for a French app and am trying to learn the most that I can with the help of Kai since he can apparently speak the language.

Sometimes, I get concerned when he reveals another form of his intelligence out of thin air. I doubt he even acknowledges how smart he is.

Speaking of intelligence, online classes have been a bitch. I did my best to finish my assignments early so I could dedicate my time to learning from Selma and everyone else who works with her. If one more professor assigns another quiz or discussion post, I will lose my fucking mind.

Kai's obviously making dinner so you know we're fine.

Thankfully, no deathly cases have happened and he's come home safely each time he's left the house. I get scared each time which is why whenever he gets the chance, he texts me about his whereabouts or just starts a conversation to show that he's fine. It actually reassures me more than he'll ever know.

I don't hate living with him either which I never thought I would say about living with a man, but here we are. The sex is incredible too. God, the sex is fucking fantastic! I start reevaluating my life choices each time he walks into our bedroom in just a towel. Or his button-ups or downs! I never thought I would be obsessed with shirts.

"Let me taste test." I usher to the pot. "If it's bad, I'm giving you a one-star review and you're never allowed to make fun of my cooking skills again."

"Cooking skills?" He chokes on a laugh. "You have to be able to cook at least one thing to be judged, love."

Alright. You burn French toast and a couple of other dishes a few times and you're labeled for your goddamn life.

He takes a spoon and sets the food into my mouth carefully since it's still hot.

I don't show my complete reaction, but holy shit that tastes phenomenal!

So he cooks, speaks multiple languages, treats me better than anyone ever has, and is great at sex. There has to be some fault.

I look at him. His blonde, neatly messy hair from working this morning, his clear skin, his gorgeous smile, straight white teeth, his hands, his muscular arms, he's smart, he knows languages that he hasn't even told me about yet since he said he's learned about five, he's tall, respectful, literally works a job where he saves people's lives....nope. Can't find any flaws. It makes me a little mad actually.

"It's good." I nod, keeping it nonchalant, the stupid fucking butterflies in my stomach from just looking at him making fun of me.

I have to keep him humble. I can't have him knowing all the things I...like about him. His ego would be far too high. My own brain argues with how big of a bitch I've become, I can't have him doing the same.