“Come over to my house,” your fiancé texted.

“Why?” you asked, even though you were already up on your feet, digging through your wardrobe for the perfect outfit.

“Just come over,” he replied.

“Tell me why and I’ll think about it,” you typed back.  Shaking your head, you swore you just had a déjà vu moment. 

“Just come over,” he repeated.  Omg, what part of “tell me why” did he not understand? But you’re already dressed in a white sweater dress and leggings. 

“Tell me why or I’m not coming,” you joked. 

The status bar read “typing…” for a few seconds and then stopped.  You frowned.  Did he really just give up like that?  You stared at the phone, waiting for his reply, but nothing happened.  Frowning you threw it onto your bed.  Well, if that’s how he was going to act then you weren’t gonna go. 

“Agashi!” the maid called from downstairs. 

“Coming!” you shouted back, stomping down to see what was the commotion. 

At the entrance stood Kim Jongin with his arms crossed. 

“W-why are you here?” you stuttered.  How in the world did he get here in less than two minutes?  He better not have sped over the road limit.

“Because someone wouldn’t come over to my house so I came to get her,” he replied. 

“Tell me why and I’ll think about it,” you teased. 

However, before you knew it, he scooped you up off your feetand carried you out the door.  You stubbornly kicked but he slapped your thigh to discipline you.  Gently, he placed you into the passenger seat. 

“Why are you being so secretive?” you asked with a pout. 

He doesn’t respond but started driving off.  Crinkling your nose, you slouched back in your seat, in defeat.  This man…seriously…this man is so y when he is mysterious is such a stubborn asscrack.  Parking the car in his garage, he walked over to open the door for you but you pretended to ignore him, turned around, and got out by yourself.  Giving him a stink face, you crossed your arms and trotted into the mansion.  He followed closely behind. 

In the living room, you finally turned and questioned, “Can you tell me what I am doing here, now?”

Jongin gurgled and dragged you into the kitchen.  Laid out on the counter were a bag of sweet potatoes, butter, white sugar, a carton of milk, eggs, flour, and whip cream.

“We’re baking a sweet potato pie,” he informed, throwing an apron to you.     

You clumsily caught it and giggled, a little amused at the situation.  Was he…jealous?  Still laughing, you unfolded the pink apron and tied the straps around your neck.  Your cheeks blushed seeing Jongin in a matching blue apron. 

“Hehe,” you cutely meep as you playfully leaned your head against his arm. 

Your fiancé peered into your twinkling eyes and pinched your nose.  A layer of flour transferred from his fingers onto the bulb of your nose. 

“Hey!” you pouted.

Grabbing a handful of flour, you threw it at his face.  His bronze skin turned pale white under the layer of natural makeup.  You grabbed your stomach; laughing so hard you wanted to vomit.  Unimpressed, he glared at you; you gulped in fear.  Sil