Naomi lay on her stomach on her couch and grinned at Greg's most recent message. He was cooking her supper tonight, which was a real treat considering most days she lived off sandwiches or meals she pulled out of her freezer, a can, or the pre-made food section of the grocery store. She was living in the right century as a woman because her cooking skills were limited. However, she'd thrive in the future when food would appear with a single thought.

"That looks like a Greg smile," Shivanna said.

"Dinner with chef Greg tonight."

Shivanna grinned and sat in their gray armchair. "Is he coming here and planning to share? I like food."

"He likes our kitchen, but this time it's at his place."

"Dang. So, what's on the menu?"

"It's a surprise." As an ungifted cook, she learned to appreciate everything placed on a plate in front of her.

"I wonder if he'll rope his mom into helping him out."

Naomi laughed, picturing Ellen's excited chatter to her son with a hundred and one pieces of advice flowing from her lips. "I wouldn't even be mad. She makes a mean lasagna. We used to devour it at Greg's place when he lived at home."

Shivanna shook her head. "How is it you stay that size, eating what you do?"

"Luck of the draw, or I never stop moving."

"So, what are you going to wear?"

Naomi's first instinct was a pair of yoga pants and a comfy t-shirt like she usually would when they hung out, but Shivanna would shoot that down. She'd dressed up for the bar, but that had crashed and burned? Greg had been more than happy to kiss her in her softball uniform, so perhaps athleisure wasn't the worst style.

"Something cute but not desperate like at the bar."

"You looked hot. I bet Greg and Kieran both thought so."

"I'm trying to keep the dates moving slow enough to build up my nerve to tell him I'm ace, so I can't wear an outfit he'll want to tear off." Naomi sighed and stared at their floral pillows. "I wish it wasn't so hard to tell him. Something else always comes up."

Shivanna chuckled. "You discussed it with Kieran at the bar and the grocery store."

Other than when she'd turned into a sobbing mess, she'd enjoyed running into him and his brother at the store. She doubted he'd consider her emotionally stable enough to train his friend's dog, but his support had been worth it. She was more confident about approaching the conversation with Greg.

"Maybe I'll have some tequila tonight and hope for the best."

"As funny as that is to imagine, you've got to wait until you're ready. If it's too rushed, save it for another night, and just enjoy being with Greg. Otherwise, he'll think he's stressing you out."

"Thanks, Shivanna," Naomi said sarcastically.

"Nomi, you'll be fine. You're both excited about this, so it'll go well."

Naomi hoped her friend was right. Her past relationships didn't have the level of trust she shared with Greg. She couldn't imagine him ending their budding relationship for the reasons her exes had given.

***

Some of those nerves followed her to Greg's place as she texted him she'd arrived. Marc answered the door with a grin and pulled her into a hug.

"Excited for tonight?" he teased, his brown eyes dancing with excitement. "Eleven years in the making."

"It better be worth it," she whispered.

"He left work early to cook this supper. That happens with the frequency of a total solar eclipse."

"Damn, now I feel like a dick for not wearing a dress."

Marc chuckled. "A man will never complain about form-fitting pants on his date."

Naomi left her sneakers on the rug. "Is that what Nimkii is wearing tonight?" she teased, even though Marc's date with his girlfriend was running a drop-in program for inner-city children together.

"Nah, she's all about her new ribbon skirt. Likes the kids' excitement over the bright colours and the story about her grandmother. It's sweet."

That smile and the confidence he'd gained from that relationship gave Naomi hope. Marc described it once as a sturdy oak tree. The deeper the roots grew, the more grounded he was in his identity, including the Métis side.

"There's a surprise waiting for you in the dining room." Marc led her inside toward a candlelit table. "He should be out soon. Have fun." Marc headed back upstairs.

Did Greg already own candles, or had he gotten them for tonight? They were an unnecessary expense he wouldn't allow in his budget, and Naomi doubted he would need the glittering red ones during a power outage. He must have gotten them just for her. Her stomach danced with excitement.

The scent of garlic and thyme filled the air, along with chicken and cream. Whatever it was, she was practically drooling as she waited for him to emerge. She lost the battle with her polite patience and tiptoed into the kitchen to find him sprinkling cheese over a tray of baked asparagus.

She wrapped her arms around his middle and leaned into his back.

"You smell too good to be Marc. But you've ruined the surprise." He put the tray back in the oven and shed the oven mitt.

"I thought I was the best surprise," she teased boldly.

He spun around and held her by the waist, tugging her toward him. "You are."

After leaning down a few inches, he kissed her gently on the lips. Today, their movements all seemed in sync, and every second was bliss. Naomi beamed at him as they pulled apart.

"I can't believe you did this all for me."

"You're amazing and deserve the best."

Naomi pulled him into another hug and kissed him again. Part of her worried she was flying too close to the sun and bound to plummet any second. If Greg shared that fear, he hid all unease from his body language. Her physical discomfort was on holiday too.

"What would you like to drink?" Greg asked.

"What are my options? Cold water, hot water or ice water?" she teased.

"Sauvignon Blanc, a Caesar, or sparkling water." His eyes never left her.

She did a toe lift in excitement. "Ooh fancy, I'll start with a Caesar, please."

Greg turned toward the fridge with a smile. "I suspected you'd say that."

He pulled out bottles of Clamato juice, Worcester sauce, a lime and a slice of fried bacon to place alongside a bottle of vodka. An advantage of dating a longtime friend was him knowing what quirks she liked with her drinks. The salty bacon stir stick was her favourite.

"How long have you been cooking?"

"Longer than I should admit." He cut the lime into quarters then wet the rim of two glasses to coat them in with celery salt. "I had a failed trial run but am hoping this turns out better. Got a little expert advice to fix my mistakes."

"Ooh, from the mother bear?"

"The one and only."

Naomi smiled, imagining Ellen's firm and excited demeanour. Ellen had always welcomed her with hugs and encouragement about her more laid-back dog-training career, but Ellen also held Greg and his brother to high standards.

"She must be ecstatic." For years, she'd teased Greg and Naomi about dating, and she also hadn't been a fan of Tara. Very successful, but a bit cold, not like you. "I'm surprised I didn't get a message from her yet."

He placed ice cubes in the cups and measured the vodka for both drinks in a shot glass. His movements were precise and focused like when he got into the work zone. Naomi considered it a compliment, as he devoted ample energy to his job.

"I haven't told my folks yet. You know how my mom is, so over-the-top." He added the vodka, alongside Worcester and hot sauce. "I didn't want to put any awkward pressure on you after the game."

Naomi would have rather told Ellen than their softball team, but she couldn't change the past. "I get it."

"And it'd be more fun to share it together, wouldn't it?" His face lit up with a grin as he added Clamato juice, giving the drink a vibrant red hue. "And I'm fine if you'd rather see how it goes and tell her later."

Naomi nodded. She swore he didn't wait to tell his mom about his past girlfriends, but Naomi also had a front-row seat now. More time had probably passed between the start of those relationships and when he'd told Naomi. Technically, this was their first actual date that didn't start with a nerve-wracking confession or softball.

Greg finished the drinks with a stalk of celery, pickled beans, and slices of bacon. "I wanted to have this ready before you arrived." He passed her the drink, their fingers brushing.

"Having me in the same kitchen as this delicious-smelling meal is tempting fate."

He laughed. "You have burned meals I didn't know could burn, but it's nice you're here early. Feels more like us."

Her stomach fluttered as she looked into those forest eyes. "We have an us feeling?"

He tapped his fingernails on the caesar glass. "We're not the formal and traditional fancy type. We're more relaxed and fun."

"Yet here you are with the candlelit dinner."

"And fun caesars."

"Cheers to that." As Naomi savoured her drink, she couldn't tell if Greg's caesars had gotten better or if she was bursting with so much happiness it affected her sense of taste. The flavour revived the excitement of their early twenties when she'd party with him and his business class buddies. Except now she could set their drinks aside, wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a deep kiss, which she took advantage of.

With supper in the oven and in an open space like the kitchen, her body seemed content to let her enjoy the passion Greg poured into each kiss, the way he'd rested their foreheads together so they caught their breath without losing their connection, and how he'd breathe her name in a husky tone before capturing her lips again and leaving her in absolute bliss.

Too soon, the oven beeped, and he groaned before he left to pull out the food. The skillet of chicken with tomato and a creamy light brown sauce had her mouth watering.

"Damn Greg," she traced a wavy line across his shoulder with her index finger, "if I'd known you came with these skills, I would have gotten over myself and confessed my feelings years ago. I've missed out on a decade of this."

He laughed. "You haven't eaten it yet."

Naomi dunked a spoon in the sauce and let its creamy, tangy flavour take over her mouth. "Amazing. You've got talent. Almost as good as that kiss."

"Oh, you liked that?" He wrapped his oven-mitt-clad hands around her waist and drew her into another. As he pulled away, he said, "Hold that thought." He removed the cheesy garlic asparagus from the oven and set it on a cork pot holder on the stovetop.

"Where were we?"

She ran a finger over his lips, enjoying how it made him shiver. "How easily you forget."

"Good thing you're here to remind me."

They kissed until the savoury aroma of the food made her stomach let out a growl. He withdrew with a laugh. "I promised you dinner, didn't I?"

"You did, Chef Greg."

Her words caused his smile to falter, but he fixed it without a word and returned to the oven. Carefully, he placed the meal on the nice dishes his parents had given him when he had bought the house. He turned around with both plates in hand, steam rising off the food.