Chapter 1

For three years, my husband insisted he couldn't stand spicy food.

"Even the smell of chili peppers gives me a headache," Adrian Bennett would say.

I loved heat. I'd grown up on hot sauce, pepper flakes, and my mother's blazing-hot chicken. But because I loved him, there hadn't been a single chili in our kitchen since our wedding.

Three days before I was due to transfer to my company's Chicago office, I stopped at the grocery store to make Adrian a special dinner.

From the other side of the spice aisle, a young woman laughed.

"Adrian, that spicy beef you made was incredible. My customers won't believe you cooked it. Can you come teach me again? Extra hot next time."

His voice came back warm and teasing. "You'll burn your tongue again."

"Then you can kiss it better."

He laughed.

I rounded the shelf and saw him placing bags of fresh red chilies into a cart already filled with hot sauce and seasonings. The woman beside him leaned into his shoulder like she belonged there.

So he could cook spicy food.

He simply wouldn't cook it for me.

I looked down at my cart: bland soup ingredients, the same things I'd bought for three years. I returned them one by one and picked up a jar of chili crisp instead.

That evening Adrian came home to steamed fish, plain vegetables, and the jar sitting in the middle of the table.

"Why is that here? Throw it out," he said.

"I bought it because I want to eat it."

"You know the smell bothers me. We've had the same rule for three years."

I looked at him. "Then why do you smell like chili peppers tonight?"

His expression tightened. He claimed he'd eaten with clients.

"I saw you at the store," I said.

After a long silence, he exhaled. "Maddie runs a food stall. She grew up without parents. I'm helping her out."

Adrian was the CEO of a company worth millions. He could have hired an entire kitchen staff if he wanted to help.

"So you cook for her?"

"I happen to know a little about spicy food."

"You told me the smell gave you headaches."

"When we were dating, you said you liked health-conscious men. I thought telling you I avoided spicy food would impress you. Then I got used to the story and forgot to clear it up."

Three years of meals I didn't want, explained away as a forgotten white lie.

My eyes stung, but I refused to cry in front of him.