My husband's best friend

CHAPTER ONE Mornings were so easy to come by these days because I stayed up late, sharing laughter with my husband, James. It feels wonderful to call him my husband. I lazily rubbed my eyes while still nestled in bed, and as I turned toward James' side, I found it empty. James had a knack for early mornings, no matter how late he stayed up. Glancing at my phone, I saw it was already 8:00 a.m. Thankfully, it wasn't a workday for me. "Emily, you really need to work on your time management," I muttered to myself, dragging myself out of bed and heading to the bathroom. We had recently relocated from Honolulu to Chicago. A week before our wedding, James was transferred to his company's branch here, and we decided to have our honeymoon in Chicago before settling into a cozy apartment in Lakeview. I didn't mind the move because I knew I could find a job as a chef anywhere. It was my way of supporting James's career and dreams. He had chosen Lakeview for our home, considering my passion for cooking and the abundance of great restaurants nearby. His office was in the Loop, but he didn't mind the commute to ensure my convenience, as he was a hybrid worker who didn't need to be at the office every day. I walked out of the bathroom, grabbed my phone, and ventured out of the bedroom, still clad in my nightgown—a short, sleeveless gown. My dark hair was hastily tied in a ponytail. As I passed through the living room on my way to the kitchen, the delightful aroma of spaghetti sauce filled the air. It was my absolute favorite. James had dated a chef long enough to practically become one himself. The clinking of pots in the kitchen and the tantalizing aroma compelled me to the kitchen. The warm Chicago sunlight streamed into our cozy apartment, casting a subtle glow over the space. It wasn't extravagant, but it was lovely, and James and I had personally decorated it. His rich friend, Charles, had helped us with some furnishings to set up our new home—I was totally against accepting those gifts. James looked incredibly handsome as he stood in the kitchen. He wore an apron over his white singlet and his favorite shorts. His neatly cropped brown hair looked even more charming from behind. I approached him and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. "Hey, love," I whispered into his back. He stopped stirring the sauce and turned to face me, gazing into my eyes with those captivating hazel eyes of his—I'd always been smitten by them. "Good morning, beautiful," he greeted, cupping my face with his hands. "How on earth do you manage to wake up so early?" I exclaimed. "Not early enough. I planned to serve you breakfast in bed, but I overslept a bit." "You're such a sweetheart," I replied, then playfully shouted across the kitchen, "My husband is the sweetest! My husband is the sweetest!" I repeated it twice before James placed his hand over my mouth. "Shh, you'll wake up the neighbors." "They'll have to get used to it," I whispered with a mischievous smile, and we both burst into laughter. "Hey, Chef, what's on the menu?" I teased. We both turned our attention to the sizzling pot, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma. "Your favorite spaghetti sauce," he replied, smiling, his eyes focused on me to gauge my reaction to the aroma. He scooped up a spoonful and offered it to me to taste. It was piping hot, but the flavor was heavenl "Oops, sorry about the heat. Here, have some water," he said, handing me a glass of water after seeing my reaction. I took a small sip and set the glass down. "Well, let's just say my apprentice is learning fast." I complimented. After breakfast, James got absorbed in his work on the computer. I was scheduled to meet with James's older sister to go shopping for her kids' birthday. She was so excited when she learned that we were moving to Chicago, as it meant having her younger brother close by. Helen was a free-spirited lady. When she found out I was a chef, she practically threw herself at me in a big hug. I still remember the first day we met; her face radiated excitement. She had a warm smile, and in no time, we were engrossed in girly chatter and laughter that echoed through the house. James was left to fend for himself with the kids until her husband returned later that day. He felt slightly betrayed because I'd easily ignored him in favor of chatting with his sister. He gave me the silent treatment until the following day. I arrived at their doorstep with a neatly wrapped package in a small fashionable bag. I rang the doorbell, and Sylvia opened the door. "Aunt Emily!" she squealed and wrapped me in a tight hug. Olivia, her twin sister, rushed over and gave me an even bigger hug. I lifted the five-year-old twins on either side of my waist and carried them inside—their fifth birthday today. Their slightly brown hair was gathered into twin ponytails, playfully dancing atop their heads. They showered my cheeks with kisses on both sides as we entered. I set them down in the living room, where they were eager to discover the surprise gift I had brought. "What did you get for us, Aunt?" Olivia asked excitedly, her dark eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Well, it's a surprise. Where's your mom?" I asked, scanning the living room for Helen. "She's getting ready in her room. She said you two are going shopping for groceries," Olivia replied. She was the chatty one—not necessarily the most brilliant. "I've been craving your cooking, Aunt Emily. I'm so glad you're making today's meal," Sylvia chimed in with her sweet, calm voice, melting my heart. I gently brushed her cheek and smiled. "Who's up for some birthday shopping?" Helen's voice rang out from the other room.