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FORTY-SIX

Hours later, Gemma stepped out of the room fully dressed. Isaac sat by the dining room, waiting for her.

"Did you prepare this?" She asked. Isaac shook his head,

"Tracy did," he says; Gemma sighed. She had expected him to prepay something, she loved his food, and he was supposed to be a chef.

"Oh... Okay, " she replied, a little disappointed. She smiled at the beautiful pasta sitting in front of her. It looked so yummy, perfectly arranged with care and love, and the aroma made her mouth water. That wasn't Tracy. She looked at him.

"What?" He smirked in a silly way.

"You prepared this," she says. Isaac wiped his mouth and laughed.

"Why?" He replied. Gemma rolled her eyes. She could tell his cooking by just the smell and look. She gulped as her mouth was full of saliva.

"I..." She paused. She hadn't tasted Tracy's food. There was a possibility it was hers. She looked at Isaac, and tasting was the only way.

"You're right, and I prepared it..." He laughed, seeing her taste
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