Victora
As I savored the last bite of lasagna, a thought floated through my mind—one that was both ridiculous and entirely out of character. I could marry this man if he keeps cooking like this. He would be an amazing lord. I could already tell.
I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. I, Victoria Harrington, consider marriage to a man that I barely knew and who was way younger than me because of a meal? The very idea was preposterous. I had been courted by the most refined and sophisticated men in Europe, the US, and even some from Southeast Asia—men who knew how to charm a lady with words and gestures, not with a spatula and a saucepan. And yet, here I was, sitting in my own chateau, contemplating how delightful life might be with a man like Ethan around, simply because he had made the best lasagna I had ever tasted.
It was ludicrous, of course. But I couldn't entirely dismiss the notion. There was something about Ethan that was undeniably appealing—beyond his culinary skills, that is. He had a calm, steady presence that put me at ease, even in the midst of the chaos we had been through last night. And the way he interacted with his daughters, with such warmth and patience, was a quality I found deeply attractive.
Honestly, it made me miss my Henry.
And no, I am not considering marriage. It was just a passing thought, a silly musing brought on by a very full stomach and an even fuller heart. After all, it wasn't every day that I was taken care of, that someone else handled the details and made sure everything was perfect. That was usually my role, the one who ensured everyone else was comfortable and happy. And yet, here was this man—this rugged, unassuming man—who had stepped in and taken over with such ease and grace.
Calm down, Victoria. It's a meal. Reign it in.
I glanced over at Ethan as he spoke with Samantha, his face animated as he described the recipe for the lasagna. It was a mirror of the conversation he and I just had. It didn't matter that we had just discussed the fine points of lasagna and cooking. He was still completely absorbed in the conversation, so passionate about something as simple as a dish. Seeing him like that, it was hard not to be charmed.
And that was what worried me.
Because, if I allowed myself to think about it too much, I might just start to think about life with Ethan. Who does that? Who pictures themselves with someone they only just met? Silly. I am still in mourning over my husband. Maybe I needed to get laid, as Samantha said.
Now wouldn't that be a scandal?
I took a deep breath, strange thoughts lingering in the back of my mind. A life where I didn't have to be the one in charge all the time, where someone else could take care of things for once, sounded… appealing. And if that someone happened to be a man who could cook like this, well, it was just icing on the cake, wasn't it?
But no, I couldn't let myself get carried away. It was just the food and a near-death experience talking. That was all. There was no need to pursue rash decisions or entertain any wild notions.
Still, even if it was just a fleeting thought, it was a pleasant one. And it made me feel… lighter, somehow. Less burdened by everything that had happened in the past year.
"Victoria, are you alright?" Ethan's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.
I blinked, realizing I had been lost in my own musings. "Oh, yes, quite alright," I replied with a smile. "Just… appreciating the meal."
He smiled back, and there it was again—that warm, steady feeling that I couldn't quite shake. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
Enjoyed it? That was an understatement. It was more than just enjoyment—it was a revelation. But I wasn't about to say that out loud. Instead, I simply nodded and smiled, keeping my thoughts to myself.
And as the conversation around the table continued, I let myself indulge in the fantasy just a little longer. Because at that moment, it didn't seem so impossible after all. And if a man could cook like this, well… who could blame a woman for letting her thoughts wander?
I also giggled at that. Maybe I should simply take Ethan to bed and be done with it.
Now that was a wicked thought.