The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 398

"I just threw something quick together."

Garrison was standing with his back to her at the open kitchen counter, wearing a navy blue apron. He was holding a wooden spatula, sliding the last fried egg onto a plate.

Hearing her footsteps, he turned around.

The morning light filtered through the small kitchen window, softening the sharp angles of his jawline into a warm golden silhouette.

Sloane stared in disbelief. How in the world was this 'something quick'?

This was enough food to open a pop-up diner!

She didn't voice her thoughts, letting Garrison speak first. "How did you sleep?"

Sloane stood by the entrance of the dining room, awkwardly tucking a stray strand of messy hair behind her ear. "Pretty good. Sorry, I... slept in a bit."

"It's fine, you were up late." He set the plate down and casually wiped his hands on his apron. "Come sit and eat."

Sloane approached the table, her eyes darting from the golden yolks to the perfectly sliced roast beef, and finally to the steaming bowl of green beans.

She didn't sit. She stood awkwardly beside the chair, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her hoodie. When she finally spoke, her tone was exceedingly cautious, carrying the awkwardness of someone trying very hard not to hurt someone else's feelings.

"Did you... make all of this yourself?"

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep anyway, so I got up early and prepped breakfast," Garrison replied, untying his apron and tossing it over the back of a chair. "Eat up."

Sloane didn't move an inch.

Her eyes bounced rapidly between the extravagant breakfast spread and Garrison, her brain kicking into overdrive.

He looked at the flawless, socially impenetrable smile plastered on Sloane's face, then looked down at the massive breakfast spread. And then, he understood.

He set the fork down, a helpless, self-deprecating smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Ms. Taylor, I didn't poison the food."

Sloane's fake smile instantly cracked.

She waved her hands frantically, her palms flapping in the air like a cat that had just gotten its tail stepped on. "Oh, no, no! Don't be ridiculous—I'm just really not hungry—I swear—"

She backed away as she waved, nearly tripping over the threshold as she reached the hallway. Spinning on her heel, she bolted toward the guest room.

"You go ahead and eat, Dr. Foster! I'll pack my things and head straight to the realtor—they should be open by now—it's past ten, they're definitely open—"