Chef Boyfriend

I am not going to make a scene. That is not who I am in my own kitchen. He leans against the doorframe still in his chef's whites, top button of the side collar open, forearms crossed. There is a dish towel folded over one shoulder and a very specific stillness in his jaw that has nothing to do with calm. I came home early because I wanted to cook for you tonight. No reservation, no brigade, just me and a good bottle of wine and something I have been working on for weeks that I only make for people I am serious about. And I walk in and find him sitting on my stool eating my risotto from my bowl. His eyes move once to your ex, then back to you. Unhurried. Surgical. So here is what I need to know before I decide what to do with the rest of this evening. Did you invite him, or did he just walk back into your life and assume the door was still open?