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Being with her, touching her, watching her let go, it’s all unexplainable, but this; this is what forced me to ditch my old life.

The connection, the comfort, the organic bond that was immediate. You can’t buy it, nor search for it, and you sure as fuck won’t find it beneath the strobe lights of a nightclub.

“Do you enjoy being in the kitchen?” she asks, taking a break from the creamy treat, settling into the warmth of the leather.

“I didn’t always, but over the last couple of years, I’ve grown to love it.”

“Thank god one of us enjoys cooking.” She laughs, and I beam.

I love when she makes jokes about us; it feels like she’s thinking about the future just as desperately as I am.

“What got you into it?”

“Boredom.”

Her sassy smirk makes my stomach tingle as she takes another bite of ice cream.

“Really, it kind of just fell into my lap. I stopped going to clubs, felt like I needed a change of scenery, and a friend of mine told me about midnight cooking classes. I fell in love with the peace it brought me. I like the feeling of making food for other people. I probably get that from my mom, though; she was always making something for us growing up, and I remember her being so proud when we enjoyed what she made.”

She flashes a genuine smile, and my heart swells. This is what I meant when I said I wanted her to be mine. Sharing a bowl of ice cream and a blanket on my couch.

“It was probably special watching her cook for all of you, wasn’t it? My parents were anti-kitchen. All the local take-out places knew me and my sister on a first name basis before the age of five.”

I feel the laugh in my chest before it floats lightly from my body. Resting backwards onto the couch, I notice my walls falling around me the more she knocks them down.

“It was great. She’s amazing, but I always wondered if my love for cooking ran deeper. If my real parents were somehow Michelin-starred chefs or something.”

Fia’s face pinches slightly, compassion written all over it. “Do you think about them often?”

The switch in pace triggers a sharp feeling in my chest, but I ignore it. “My parents?”

“Yeah.” She’s quiet, walking on eggshells, unsure if she just pushed a button she shouldn’t have.

“All the time.”

My adoption is no secret. While our bond is as strong as blood, there’s no match in DNA for any of us Parker men.

“They missed out, you know,” Fia whispers.

The cracks of my neglected heart begin to move, coming together slowly for words I didn’t know I was so desperate to hear.

“Is that right?” I smirk, masking my sensitive composure with humor.

“Yeah, you might be one of the world’s most intolerable men, but you’re one of the good ones.”

As Fia finishes the ice cream, I set the empty bowl on the coffee table and pat my lap, motioning for her to come closer.

When she’s comfortable, I rest my chin on her head, grinning wide at how right stillness with her feels.

“I wasn’t all that intolerable when you were begging for me in the bathroom. Jett, please. Jett, don’t do that,” I whine, making a mockery of the most beautiful cries I’ve ever had the privilege of hearing.

With an elbow straight to my stomach, she has me wailing, my head tossing back to the pillow behind me.

“Watch it. I’ll take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you,” she threatens, her nose scrunching in the most adorable way.

My arms circle tight around her middle as I find the crevice of her neck, pressing my mouth to her skin.

“Taking it back won’t do a thing, Sofia baby. They’re already stored securely in my memory.”