I inputted the key code into the keypad and opened the door. Upon entering the house, the smell of something delicious immediately assaulted my senses. Michelle must have overdone herself today. I dropped my briefcase on the table and headed towards the kitchen.

I stopped at the sight that was in front of me. Danielle was in an apron and cooking—cooking, not microwaving. I waited in silence for her to notice me and watched as all her attention was on the pot on the gas.

I cleared my throat, and she rounded on me, gripping the spatula in her right hand and her left hand holding her chest. "Geez. You startled me." She complained when she saw me.

"What are you making? It smells good." I asked, moving closer to her and looking into the pot.

"Beef Bourguignon. I asked my mom for her recipe. I hope it turns out well. When did you arrive? I didn't hear you come in." She asked me.

I went to sit down. "A few minutes ago. The scent brought me here. I'm sure it will taste amazing."

She smiled. "I just wanted to try my hand at it. It will soon be ready. I'm starving. Are you ready to eat? Eleni will come down in, like, the next hour. She has an online learning class she joined out of boredom."

"I just ate." I replied, and she glanced at me.

"Alright. No problem then. You should go and rest. You've had a stressful day. I'm sure."

I decided to do something out of the ordinary. "I can wait with you as you eat so you don't eat alone."

She turned to me, eyebrows puckered. "I don't mind eating alone. I'm sure you must be tired. Plus, it will be nice to have the room alone to yourself. You don't have to do anything out of the ordinary."

Why did the thought of being in the room without her sound so wrong? I shook my head. "I don't feel like going to the room right now. Or would you rather be alone?"

She turned the gas off. "Of course not. This is your home, so I can't be giving you orders on where you can go. I just thought… never mind."

I smiled and watched her as she dished her food in a bowl. She turned to me. "Are you sure you don't want to take a little? It feels weird to me watching someone else eat, even when I've just finished."

Sure, it wouldn't be that terrible of an idea, even though my stomach might not agree with me. "Alright. I'll take a little. I'm also curious about the taste."

I could hear the smile in her voice as she dished my food in a bowl. "It should be edible, but if it isn't, since I forgot to taste it, we can probably just order pizza."

I stood up and picked up both bowls and placed them on the table, while she put cutlery beside the plates. "Sure, pizza doesn't sound half bad." I said in a teasing tone.

She laughed. "It's not like I forced you to eat, so you can have yourself to blame if it turns out inedible."

We both settled down to eat, and from the nervous look on Danielle's face, I could tell she wanted me to take a bite of the food first, and she was nervous about my reaction, so I did. I took a small bite of the beef bourguignon and took another bite immediately.

"This is perfect. Your mom must be a very good cook."

She looked a little doubtful. "Really?" She asked and took a big bite. I gave her an encouraging smile as her lips widened as she chewed.

"Isn't it delicious?" I asked her, and she nodded.

"Maybe I missed my calling. I should be a cook, cooking in very expensive and fancy restaurants."

I scoffed. "Perhaps you shouldn't go that far yet," making her laugh.

I kept stealing glances at her as we continued eating. Now that I was noticing her, really seeing her, she always had a look about her that boasted how confident she was. I'd assumed our relationship, if I could call it that, would always be awkward, unable to hold a conversation and constantly avoiding each other's eyes, but so far, it had been nothing like that. Sure, we'd intentionally done our best to keep our privacy. I had my suspicions about her, and I was sure she had something she wanted from me as well, but our conversations, though mostly short and stilted, had never bordered on awkward or uncomfortable, something I was beginning to appreciate now. I couldn't imagine facing the chaos that was currently outside and being unable to relax and be myself at home as well. That would have been hell.

Danielle glanced at me and found my eyes on her. She furrowed her brows. "Do you have something you want to tell me?"

How much could I trust this woman? I needed to know what she was hiding and what she wanted for me to have peace of mind. My mind went to her mother's behavior at our wedding. She didn't sound like the same person that could give her daughter that delicious recipe. It was also strange that someone like that had birthed and raised someone like Danielle, since I could remember Danielle saying she had lost her father at a young age.

"Did your mother cook things like this often when you were growing up?" After observing, I'd come to the realization that Danielle would never talk about herself if I didn't ask. Funny enough, she reminded me of me.

She dropped her fork and sat straighter. "Sometimes. Why do you ask?" There it was, the terseness at being asked something that could potentially reveal something about her.

I shook my head and took the last bite of my meal. "Nothing. I was just curious since you said you got the recipe from her. She must be a good cook. Were there other meals she was perfect at cooking?"

Danielle arched her brows. "Yes. She's a good cook, but what's with the twenty questions?"

I shrugged. "Can't a man just be curious and ask questions? It's always better to know a little about the people one keeps around."

She tensed. "People one keeps around? That means I'm justified as well to ask you questions, right? Why don't we make this simpler, since I know you will hate me asking questions as much as I hate answering them? Ten questions. And we have to answer each one as honestly as possible. I've answered one already, so it's my turn to ask now."

I frowned. I guess I'd walked into that one. The part about our conversation not being awkward—I'd forgotten that it had mostly ended in arguments. "Let's make it five, and that question doesn't count. Asking about something you brought up in the first place being part of the questions doesn't seem fair to me." I responded after thinking of all the possible questions she could ask.

She shook her head. "Fine, you're right. Instead, let me ask you a question now, based on the criteria you made, and it won't count as part of the five."

This was interesting. It seemed like my wife took things very seriously and was very competitive, even on matters that weren't a competition. I nodded, confident she would find getting a question difficult, since I'd made sure especially not to talk about myself.

She proved me wrong. "Your brother. How did he die?"

I flinched. "That question doesn't meet the criteria I judged mine based on."

She shrugged. "Are you refusing to answer?" She was also done with her meal now. I didn't want to answer that question, not wanting to recall memories I would rather forget. Plus, her question made my suspicion about her grow stronger. Why had she picked that question?

"Fine. I'll answer, but I'm taking that question as part of the five I owe you." She started protesting, but I raised my hand. "Have a conscience, will you? In what way does that seem fair to you?"

I could tell my comment irritated her, even as she tried to hide that fact. "Okay. You're right." She glanced at the clock hanging in the kitchen. "I don't think we should have this conversation here, though. Eleni will soon be done with her class, and she will come out to eat. Plus, we can grab a glass of wine along with some snacks."

I nodded. "Alright. We can have it inside if that's what you want." I recognized her snacks as a way to get some liquid courage, which meant she knew I wasn't about to go soft on her.

She nodded. "Not the room. In your office."

I arched my brows. "What??"

She shrugged. "It gives me the ick when people eat in their rooms. Your office seems like the best option other than the living room." She argued.

"There was nothing in my office she could find that would tell her more about me than I was willing to reveal, so I nodded. "Fine. Whatever you want."

I stood up and grabbed both our plates. "Let me clean this up. You can take the wine upstairs." She looked like she wanted to say something, but I stopped her. "You cooked, so it's only right I clear up. I'll also need to go and change to something more comfy before I go to the office."

"Sure." She repied, and grabbed a bottle of wine from the wine cabinet.

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