Resting your shoulder against the door’s frame, you smiled at your boyfriend’s back, turned to face the desk he was sitting at. One hand resting in his hair, the other scribbling lyrics on a sheet of lined paper.

You walked towards him, resting a hand gently on his shoulder. He jumped slightly, startled by the gesture. Removing his headphones, he turned to face you with a warm smile.

“I’m making gnocchi for dinner. Is that alright with you? Your boyfriend nodded eagerly, his eyes smiling in synchrony with his mouth.

“Yes, please!” You patted his shoulder twice before returning to the kitchen. “Thank you!” He said behind you, with you drawing a laugh from your throat. Every time you cooked he was grateful, open with expressing his delight over homemade meals.

Removing the potatoes from the oven, you quickly mixed them into a velvety dough. Carefully you rolled it into long snakes, cutting the gnocchi with a gentle indentation in each puff. Each was placed gently on a baking pan, set aside while you boiled water and began the sauce.

You simmered tomatoes in a saucepan, letting them sit while you added a variety of spice. Deftly you held the knife, chopping parsley with an almost musical rhythm. Your hands hesitated as a pair of arms wrapped tightly around your waist, a head of soft hair resting lightly against your shoulder. You could feel his smile in the crook of your neck, lips curving upward against your skin. He stood still as you finished the parsley, brown eyes watching you with unwavering attention.

“Can I help?” he asked, letting go of you and leaning with his back and hands resting against the counter top. You grinned.

“Sure! If you want to put these in the water,” you said, gesturing to the uncooked gnocchi. “You can stir them, and take them out when the start to float?” He nodded at your questioning tone, eager to take part in creating the food.

You laughed and joked together as you finished cooking dinner. He watched the gnocchi with a childlike vigilance, rescuing the puffs from the bubbling water the moment they began to float. You stirred the sauce slowly, offering the spoon to his lips with each change in the seasoning. He was less than helpful, declaring it delicious after every taste. You rolled your eyes, tasting it for yourself and adding more pepper.

Finally, the food was finished and he carried it to the table, gesturing for you to sit before him. You sat together quietly at first, the sounds of chewing the only noise in the room. He grinned brightly at you again, still smiling with his eyes.

“I really, really appreciate how often you make dinner for me. I know it’s a lot of work.” Your smile was wide as you replied.

“You work so hard every day, and I really do enjoy cooking!” He placed his hand on top of yours.

“Even still, I’m really grateful.”