This chapter can be read on it's own, or can be read with Trev's chapter which can be found here. It's the one time that the two stories have chapters for the same event so it just made sense to me to publish them at the same time. While the event is the same, their reactions and experiences are different and I think each chapter shows just how different George and Trev are by revealing what each chose to center their thoughts and attention on.
While I'm disclosing things, I might as well mention that there's one picture that might be considered NSFW and as always, this is a long chapter with a ton of pictures.
Hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much for reading!
****George****
“Steph? Are you home?” Only a few lights were on in the
apartment which meant more than likely she wasn’t, but I wanted to be sure.
Soon after we returned from our honeymoon I came home to a similar sight and
assumed that she wasn’t there. The scare I gave her as I entered our bedroom
made her jump and scream loud enough that I wondered if the whole city heard
it. She spent the next several minutes playfully scolding me and smacking my
arm. I had learned my lesson that day,
always let her know when you’re home.
The memory made me chuckle as I made my way up the stairs to
change clothes. This had been the normal lately. I’d return home to an empty
apartment, change, start dinner, and Steph would come rushing into the
apartment like a car on two wheels. I was glad for it though. She and Ethan
began the prep work for their catering business after we returned from Italy
and even though it was hard work and she was exhausted most nights, it was
worth it to see her happy doing what she dreamt of for so long.
After changing I made my way back down to the kitchen and
took inventory of what food we had in the fridge. One of the drawers contained
a block of parmesan and it reminded me that we had ingredients for pasta sauce.
I had enough time to cut everything up, place it in a pot, and start simmering
it before I heard the sound of the elevator dinging and her rushed footsteps on
the wood floor.
“Shitfire I’m sorry!” She rushed to the kitchen, flung her
bags down on the floor, and quickly placed a kiss on my cheek. “I was about to walk out the door when Ethan
asked me if I’d look over some numbers with him. Which I told him wasn’t
necessary since I trust him and know that he’ll keep us on track financially,
but he insisted.”
Her rushed entrance made her cheeks flush and eyes dance,
making her look completely adorable and too irresistible not to touch. My hand hooked
around her waist and pulled her closer. “He just wants to make sure that you’re
both on the same page.”
A playful smile appeared on her lips as she moved even closer.
“I know. . .” She studied her hands as they started to rub my chest, making
every nerve in my body tingle with anticipation. “I just wanted to get home.”
Her eyes crept up, and the suggestive way they peeked through her lashes at me
and the huskiness in her voice made any reassuring words about Ethan and the
catering business or thoughts about the simmering dinner vanish.
“I’m glad you’re home.” The drop in my voice made her smile
widen and my hold on her tightened to press her body into mine. There were
several moments of the day that I looked forward to; waking up to find her in
my arms, sitting down to eat dinner with her, and our first kiss after
returning home from a busy day apart. It never failed in melting away the
stress and worries of the day. Our kiss that night did just that and deepened into
something more just as the sauce started to sputter, interrupting what could
have been.
“You’re making spaghetti?” She stood on her tiptoes to peek
over my shoulder and I nodded. “If I’d gotten home sooner I could’ve helped
you.” She somewhat whined as her shoulders sank in disappointment.
“You’ve been cooking all day; and I wanted to make dinner
for you.” She spent the previous two weeks tweaking recipes so they could be
produced in larger quantities for catering events and I knew she had to be
somewhat burned out on cooking.
“You do make a delicious pasta sauce. . .” She somewhat gave
in and I gave her another quick kiss before she rushed upstairs to change. By
the time she returned, dinner was ready and waiting on the table.
“Thank you for making dinner.” She smiled at me as we both
sat down.
“It brought back some memories.” I admitted and her smile
turned into an ear to ear grin. “I didn’t hand pick the tomatoes or cook it on
a stove in a Tuscan villa, but hopefully it’s just as good.” During our last
night in Tuscany we had a romantic spaghetti dinner that we picked vegetables
for and I somehow convinced her to let me cook for her. It had been a fitting
end to our time there before the second half of our honeymoon in Venice.
I anxiously waited for the verdict as she leaned over her
plate and took a bite. “It’s just as delicious as it was then.” She smiled up
at me and I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction from her
praise. I joined her in sampling the sauce and several minutes of contented
silence passed before she inquired about my day.
“Did you have a lot of patients today?” She asked as she
twirled some spaghetti onto her fork.
“About the same as I usually do.” I looked down at my plate
before continuing, knowing that what I told her next would make me revisit a
part of my day I didn’t really want to. “I did receive an interesting call
though. . .” The sudden halt of her twirling fork was enough to tempt me to glance
up at her and she raised her eyebrow, coaxing me to continue. “Mom called me.”
Her head snapped back a little. “At work?”
I nodded. “I was just as surprised as you are.” Mom never
called me when I was working, and just like Steph, it had made me worry. “She
wanted to ask me something and it was important enough that she wanted to ask
as soon as possible.”
“What did she ask you?”
