His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Sophia dropped the bags with a dramatic thud in the middle of the living room and kicked off her heels like she was home.

“Liam mentioned he dropped you off at home,” she added, tossing her hair as she made a beeline for the couch.

I blinked at her, barefoot, still very much unprepared for the storm of her energy taking over my apartment. “When did you even get back?”

“This morning,” she replied, pulling the band from her hair as she made herself comfortable on my couch. “Didn’t even unpack. Dropped my suitcase at the house and headed straight

here.”

I raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Obviously,” she said, already rummaging through one of the shopping bags like it owed her secrets. A moment later, she pulled out a glossy white pastry box and opened it like it was sacred. “Liam’s marinating in one of those moods. Grumpy. Quiet. Barely speaking. I asked what happened, and he acted like I wasn’t sitting two feet away. So…” She flashed me a bright grin. “I figured I’d get the gist from you.”

I folded my arms. “There’s no gist.”

She looked at me slowly over the rim of her sunglasses. “Emily.”

“Nothing happened.”

Sophia let out a snort as she retrieved a chocolate croissant, holding it like a mic. “Really? You expect me to believe that? After the kiss I walked in on? Try again.”

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I walked over and sat beside her, arms still folded. “It was a heat–of–the–moment thing.”

Her grin turned mischievous. “Oh really? So we are getting somewhere.”

“There was alcohol involved,” I added, flatly.

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She took a bite, chewed slowly, then pointed the croissant at me like it was a weapon of truth. “Sweet denial. You taste just like flaky pastry and lies.”

I sighed and slumped into the couch. “Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter.

“Why not?”

I hugged a throw pillow to my chest. “Because I work for your brother.”

“1

Sophia rolled her eyes so hard I was mildly concerned she’d pull something. “Ugh, that is such a lame excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse.

“1

“It is,” she countered, standing and pacing in front of me like a lawyer building a case. “Emily, come on. Liam looks at you like you’re the only person keeping him grounded. He hasn’t looked at anyone like that in years.”

I rubbed my temples. “You clearly haven’t been looking closely enough.”

“No,” she said gently, her voice softening, “I looked very closely. And what I saw was a man trying not to fall too fast… because for once, someone made him feel something real.”

Silence felt easier than anything I could’ve said.

She sat back down beside me, her energy quieter now. “Liam wasn’t always like this. He

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Chapter 20

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used to be fun and easy to talk to. But life happened, people left, trust got burned. And he just… closed up.”

“And now he’s hot and cold every five seconds,” I muttered. “One minute, he’s kissing me like I’m air. Then next, he’s shutting down like I’m invisible.”

She gave a soft shrug “He’s scared.”

I scoffed. “Well, he needs to work on that. Because even if I wanted something to happen, and I’m not saying I do. I can’t do this whiplash behavior. I don’t chase mixed signals.”

There was a beat of silence before she smiled again. “Fine. I’ll drop it. For now. But be patient with him, okay?”

“Not making promises,” I muttered.

She clapped her hands suddenly, like the air needed shaking up. “Enough about tortured almost–romances. I didn’t come here solely for that.”

I raised a brow. “Oh?”

“I came for two very important reasons,” she announced, standing like a general about to brief her troops. “One: for the gist. Which, by the way, was tragically censored.”

I rolled my eyes.

“And two…” She reached for one of the shopping bags, pulled out a sleek black garment bag, and held it up with the flair of a magician about to reveal her final trick. “To give you this.”

I blinked. “What is it?”

“Your official invitation.”

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“To what?”

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“My birthday, duh. Three days from now. Keep up, woman.‘

“You flew out just to shop for your own party?”

”

“Of course,” she said like it was the most logical thing in the world. “And while I was at it, I saw this dress and thought of you.”

I gave her a look. “You could’ve just texted like a normal person.”

She beamed. “Have you met me? Babe, nothing about me is normal.”

With a dramatic zip, she opened the garment bag.

My breath hitched, sharp and sudden.

The most stunning, breathtaking gown I’d ever seen.

Royal blue satin. Floor–length. A sculpted bodice that looked like it had been tailored by angles. An open back. The kind of dress that made your breath catch and your confidence grow two inches just by looking at it.

“I… can’t wear that,” I said.

“Yes, you can.”

“Sophia, this looks like it belongs to someone walking a red carpet.”

“Exactly. And you, darling, are about to be the main event.”

I shook my head. “I mean it. It must’ve cost a fortune.”

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