ISAAC'S POV
"You jerk!" Imogen exclaimed, but her laughter betrayed her amusement. I couldn't help but grin as I turned back to the stove, flicking on the burner and setting the pan down with a satisfying clang.
As I busied myself with warming up the food, I could hear Imogen's soft footsteps padding around the living room. The sound of her presence filled the apartment with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat emanating from the stove.
Once the dish was heated through, I carefully transferred it to a plate, arranging it as neatly as I could. I'd never been one for presentation, but something about Imogen made me want to try harder, to impress her even with the smallest gestures.
"Hey," I called out, peering into the living room. "Food's ready. Come on over to the dining room."
Imogen looked up from where she'd been examining my bookshelf, her fingers trailing along the spines of well-worn novels. She nodded, a small smile gracing her lips as she made her way over.
