He paused on the threshold, his eyes scanning the room like a inspector checking a checklist.

The scent of roasting garlic and rosemary filled the air, and I saw the tension in his jaw ease slightly.

“Smells good,” he said, his voice smooth and deep.

“We are right on schedule,” I said, keeping my tone soft and even.

He walked over to me, his polished shoes silent on the hardwood floor.

He didn’t look at my face first; his eyes went straight to my right arm, which was bound in the thick, white fiberglass cast.

A small, satisfied smirk touched the corner of his mouth before he masked it with his usual mask of concern.

“I’m glad to see you didn’t let a little clumsiness ruin the evening,” he said, reaching out to pat my shoulder.

His fingers pressed just a bit too hard against my collarbone, a silent reminder of his strength.

“I wanted everything to be perfect for you, Derek,” I said, looking down at his polished shoes.

“It had better be,” he murmured, his voice dropping so low that I doubted Laura could hear him over the sound of her prep work.