Save Her Lose Us (Evangeline and Soren) novel Chapter 145

But soon, he closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and composed himself.

He hadn't come here to argue with her.

No matter how close she and Glenn might be, she was still his wife. They were married, their certificates tucked away in some drawer—an undeniable fact.

She was only angry with him because of the baby. That was all.

Once her anger faded, she'd regret it.

With that thought, Soren felt much better. He tossed his book aside and said, "Go make dinner. I'm eating here tonight."

Evangeline looked at him, bewildered. "Why?"

He had a whole mansion he could go back to, and Poppy waiting on him, yet here he was demanding she cook?

Soren's tone was as calm as ever. "Why not? You're my wife. Isn't it perfectly normal for you to make me dinner?"

So that was it.

Evangeline glanced at the calendar.

One more week until she could finally get the divorce decree.

Technically, she was still his wife.

But she certainly didn't feel like it.

"Why don't you ask Poppy? I'm sure you'll like her cooking better," Evangeline replied.

Soren caught the subtle hint of jealousy in her voice, and whatever irritation he'd been feeling evaporated.

He let out a soft, helpless chuckle. "But tonight, I want to eat your cooking."

Once, those words would have made Evangeline's heart leap with joy.

For five years of marriage, she'd lost count of the evenings she'd waited with dinner on the table, just hoping he'd come home.

But he was almost always with Poppy. Every time, she'd wait until dinner grew cold, then reheat it, only for it to cool again while she waited. After a while, her heart grew cold too.

Seeing that he had no intention of leaving, Evangeline gave up arguing. She knew his stubbornness—there was no point wasting energy fighting him.

Besides, she was hungry herself. It was just a meal. His presence or absence didn't make a difference.

"Cook more," Soren declared, piling the groceries on the counter as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Evangeline stared at him, exasperated. "Soren, what exactly are you trying to do?"

"Eat," Soren replied, blunt and to the point.

She gestured toward the door. "This isn't a restaurant. Head downstairs, take a left, and you'll find a chef who's probably better than I am."

"But I want your cooking," Soren said, locking eyes with her, a subtle smile tugging at his lips.

Last time, even though her food had grown cold, it was still delicious.

For days afterward, he couldn't stop thinking about that evening—about her, and the familiar, comforting taste of her food.

Gregory had told him it was normal, that it was the bond of home.

He used to hate the idea of sharing a home with Evangeline.

But lately, he'd begun to wonder if it might not be so bad after all.