Chapter 52

Wolfe's POV.

The kitchen looked like a battlefield. Pots and pans were strewn across the counters, and flour dusted every surface like a fresh snowfall. I stood in the center of the mess I'd made, trying to remember if the recipe called for two eggs or three.

“I’ll surprise you.” I had texted Makenna, the words typed without a second thought. And when she replied that she was looking forward to it, I realized I had no idea what I was doing. I was at a loss for what to surprise her with, and after hours of racking my brain, I’d settled on cooking. Which was dumb, because I couldn’t cook to save my life. Cooking had seemed like a good idea—romantic, thoughtful. But now, staring at the mess, I questioned my sanity.

I couldn’t even ask her what she liked to eat without ruining the surprise. So I’d spent the better part of the morning watching cooking videos online, finally settling on something simple: spaghetti aglio e olio. It sounded simple enough—pasta, garlic, olive oil, red pepper flakes. How hard could it be? I’d watched the video a dozen times, but somehow, the ingredients refused to cooperate.

I squinted at the instructions on my phone, the screen smudged with flour. “Heat the oil, add the garlic…” I muttered. “Okay, I can do this.”

The olive oil sizzled in the pan as I tossed in the garlic. A pungent aroma filled the air, and for a brief moment, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wouldn’t be a disaster after all. I stirred the garlic, watching it turn golden brown. It didn’t smell half bad, but then again, I’d once thought burnt toast was a culinary masterpiece.

The next step was adding the red pepper flakes. I grabbed the jar, unscrewed the lid, and promptly knocked it over, sending fiery flakes cascading across the counter.

“Shit,” I muttered, frantically scooping up the spill. “This was supposed to be romantic, not a fire hazard.”

I hummed to myself, then stopped abruptly, chuckling at the absurdity of what I was doing. Me, Wolfe Wilder, billionaire jeweler extraordinaire, humming in the kitchen like some lovesick teenager. If my brothers saw me now, they’d never let me live it down. Good thing we didn’t live together anymore.

I’d ordered pizza, Chinese, and some pastries from Yas’s bakery as backup. Just in case my cooking turned into a disaster. I glanced at the pile of takeout boxes stacked in the corner, hoping I wouldn’t need them.

I added the pasta to the boiling water, splashing myself in the process. Hot water seared my skin, and I yelped, jumping back. “Smooth, Wolfe. Real smooth.”

My thoughts drifted to Mackenzie and her confession yesterday. Hopefully, this would put an end to her constant flirting. It was exhausting, and the last thing I needed was more drama.

The knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. I frowned, checking the time. I wasn’t expecting Makenna until the afternoon. Who could that be? She was really early if it was her. Not that I’d mind.

I hit the button to open the door and it was Makenna, but something felt off. It was her usual modest dressing alright, but it was a bit more revealing.

“Makenna, you’re early,” I said, trying to mask my surprise. “Come on in.”

“I am?” She chuckled nervously as she stepped inside, her eyes scanning the mess of my apron. “Were you...cooking?”

I laughed nervously. “Attempting to, yes. That's the surprise.”

“Surprise?” She whispered, a shadow of surprise flickering across her features. Her lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s sweet of you, Wolfe.”

Why did she seem…surprised?

“I wasn’t expecting you until the afternoon.”

“I had some free time, so I thought I’d come by early,” she replied, her voice unusually soft.

I glanced at her again, something nagging at the back of my mind. “Is everything okay, Makenna? You seem...different.”

She looked down, playing with the hem of her dress. “Just thought I'd spice things up.”

I raised an eyebrow, the humor of the situation not lost on me. “Well, you certainly spiced things up. Did you raid Yas’s closet for that dress?”

She laughed, but it sounded nervous. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that,” I said quickly. “It’s just...different.”

She stepped closer, her fingers trailing along my arm. “Different can be good, right?”

I swallowed hard, my eyes flicking back to the kitchen. “Yeah, sure. Different can be good.”

I watched her as she walked into my house, her movements graceful but a bit...off? No, I was probably imagining things.

"Make yourself comfortable," I said, gesturing towards the living room. "I just need a few more minutes in the kitchen. Hopefully, I won’t set the place on fire."

She laughed and wandered towards the living room, and I hurried back to the kitchen, my heart racing. Her early arrival had thrown me off balance, but in the best way possible. I couldn't wait to see her reaction to the meal I had planned. But I hoped my spaghetti aglio e olio could keep up. I had a lot planned for today, and everything had to be perfect.

As I stirred the pasta, I felt her presence before I saw her. She leaned against the doorframe, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hey, chef, how about we take a break? Come to bed with me."

I turned to her, eyebrows raised in mock scandal. “And let our spaghetti aglio e olio go to waste? That would be a crime against pasta.”

She shrugged, a sly smile spreading across her face. “We can do without it.”

Before I could protest, she stepped forward and turned off the gas, the hiss of the stove dying out.

I stared at her, astonished by her forwardness. This wasn’t like the Makenna I knew—quiet, contemplative, definitely not into making such bold moves. “You're really direct today.”

She chuckled, the sound light and carefree, and grabbed my hand. “Can't a girl miss her boyfriend?”

“Of course,” I replied, but something felt...odd. Maybe she was just in a particularly good mood. I decided to play along, curious to see where this would go.

Once in the bedroom, she sat on the bed, her eyes inviting. I kissed her forehead, trying to read her expression.

I held her, my mind racing. Something wasn’t adding up. I pulled back slightly to look at her. “So, tell me, how did your day go?”

She hesitated, a fleeting look of uncertainty crossing her face. “Uh, it was...busy,” she said, her tone unconvincing.

“Busy?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “With what, exactly?”

She paused again, clearly searching for something to say. “You know, just...work stuff. And errands.”

“Work stuff and errands,” I repeated, trying to hide my smile. “That sounds...vague.”

Her eyes darted around the room, avoiding my gaze. “Yeah, well, nothing exciting. Just the usual.”

I leaned back, studying her. This was definitely something off. “You sure you’re okay?” I asked, my tone light but my eyes serious.

She nodded too quickly. “Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I be?”

I shrugged, deciding to test the waters. “Because you’re acting a bit...different today. Not that I’m complaining, but it’s... strange.”

She laughed nervously. “Strange how?”

I smirked, deciding to go for humor. “Well, for one, you’ve never voluntarily turned off my cooking. That’s practically a crime in this house and very daring.”

She blinked, clearly thrown off by the joke. “Oh, right. Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” I said, trying to keep things light. “Just making sure my girlfriend is alright.”

She hugged me tightly, her voice muffled against my chest. “I’ve missed you.”

I ran a tentative hand through her hair, feeling the oddness of the situation nagging at me. As she leaned in to kiss me, a voice called out, “Wolfe!”

I turned sharply, and there she was—another Makenna standing in the doorway with a look of utter confusion and anger. “What’s going on here?”

Wait a damn minute.

I swore under my breath, realizing I’d been fooled. I glanced back at the woman in my arms—Mackenzie, not Makenna. My playboy days were definitely coming back to bite me in the ass.

What kind of man didn’t recognize his own girlfriend?

I stood up abruptly, anger coursing through me—mostly at myself for not noticing that I was not with my girlfriend—as I glanced at Mackenzie then back at Makenna, whose eyes were blazed with fury. “Care to explain, Wolfe?”

Damn it. So much for a perfect weekend.