You woke up, blinking sleepily at the sun. It was Saturday—your only day you took off from working at the restaurant. Unfortunately, Everett's filming schedule wasn't quite so forgiving, and you barely knew when he would or wouldn't be home.

He was slumped in bed, still in his chefs whites, when you got home. You'd carefully stripped them off of him in your sleepy haze, before falling into bed yourself.

When you woke up, he wasn't there. That much was typical—you never managed to be awake and at home at the same time.

However, when you dragged yourself into the main room of the apartment, you spotted Everett at the stove. He'd made your sleepy antics the night before worth it—he hadn't put a shirt back on, only a pair of sweats that hung loose over his slim hips. You smiled, it had been a while since you'd properly looked at him—Taste was wrapping up filming for season five and he was busier than ever—and he was still looking perfect.

It was hard to believe that three seasons of the show had gone on without you, but you watched Everett's success happily, just as he watched yours. He inched his way towards his fifth award season as you inched your way towards a Michelin star.