My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 676

Just as Tristan Davis had said, after Emily Blair finished her shower, she walked into his room and was greeted by the sight of a steaming late-night meal laid out on the white porcelain dining table.

Tristan had made two bowls of spicy wonton soup, adding a handful of noodles and topping it all off with chopped green onions and fresh parsley. The aroma filled the room, making it impossible to resist.

Emily loved spicy food, though her tolerance was laughably low—a classic case of “all talk, no heat.” Every time they ate out, she’d order her food just barely spicy, and on a wild night, might push it to medium. That had never changed, not in her past, not now.

Tristan, on the other hand, couldn’t handle spice at all. Even the slightest kick would have him coughing and watering at the eyes.

But then, at some point, things shifted. Emily noticed one day that Tristan was actually eating spicy food.

She’d even tried to stop him. “Hey, didn’t you say you can’t handle spice?”

Tristan just grinned, the corners of his mouth lifted in a cocky smirk. “Gotta try new things sometime.”

The moment he took his first bite, predictably, he choked and turned red-eyed with tears, grabbing his water and gulping it down as if his life depended on it.

Emily and Elizabeth Wilson, who were watching, just shook their heads in disbelief. But Tristan, apparently spurred on by sheer competitiveness, grabbed his fork and made to shovel in another mouthful. Emily had to jump in, practically yanking his plate away to stop any further disaster, making sure he didn’t have to be carried out of the restaurant.

Five years had gone by since then, and somehow, Emily had gotten used to the fact that Tristan now ate spicy food.

She shook her head, laughing at herself for drifting into nostalgia.

She sat down just as Tristan emerged from the kitchen, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he untied his black apron and slung it over the back of a chair. “So, what do you think? Not bad, right?”

Emily stirred her soup with a spoon, watching the plump wontons swimming in a thin layer of red oil. “Impressive. Did you make these yourself, or are they straight from the freezer?”

Tristan made a sound of mock offense. “Even if they’re frozen, it’s the thought that counts.”

Emily tried not to laugh. “So, they’re frozen then?”

He shot her a look. “You dare complain?”

She wouldn’t dare. Emily was always quick in the shower, and for Tristan to have prepared two bowls of wonton soup in that short time was honestly quite something. Besides, she was the one being waited on.

She gave him a big thumbs-up. “Seriously, it’s great. You did really well.”

Tristan eyed her, skeptical and deadpan.

Emily doubled down. “I mean it. I swear.”

He finally snorted, half amused, half exasperated. “That’s more like it. Now hurry up and finish.”

Emily dutifully polished off every last wonton and noodle. When she was done, Tristan took her bowl and utensils and popped them into the dishwasher without a second thought.

As he set the cycle, he called out, “Alright, time to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, you too. Don’t stay up late,” Emily replied as she headed back to her room.

Tristan finished setting the program just as he heard her door softly click shut.