“We’re trying to cook this thing we just saw onMasterChef,” Emmy added excitedly.
“Oh?” He walked towards them.
“It’s a braised chicken with something called a ‘jus’ and it has this puree made of this stuff called celeriac.” She looked over at Poppy and they laughed. “We didn’t even know what that was, but it kind of looked like onion, so we’re making it out of onions.” She smiled at him.
“Tamlin usually cooks supper, though,” he said, running his eyes over the chaos on the countertop.
“We gave Tamlin the night off,” Poppy said, licking something off her finger. God, he wanted to be her finger right now.
“And we felt like cooking,” Emmy said, looking up at him.
‘Since when do you feel like cooking?” he joked.
“Since I’ve been watchingMasterChef,” she replied.
“I see. And what’s this music?”
“Oh, her name is Janis Joplin. I’ve never heard of her before, but she is so cool. Poppy was telling me all about her.”
Poppy looked up at him. “My mom used to listen to her all the time. She loved her.”
“Well, she’s definitely better than One Direction,” he said.
Emmy put her spoon down and glared at him. “Ryan, I haven’t listened to One-D in like years, they don’t even exist anymore. That was so four years ago. Seriously.”
“Sorry,” he teased, holding his hands up in mock defense. He leaned over the counter and propped himself up on his elbows. He looked up at Poppy, who was smiling at him.
“What did you say we were having again?” he asked.
“Braised chicken with a mushroom jus and onion puree. Oh, but we didn’t have any mushrooms either, so we’re using carrots,” Emmy said.
“We’re improvising,” Poppy added.
“Mmmm, you seem to do that a lot,” he joked.
“Well, I am an actress,” she said with a smile. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, so do you want to go freshen up or something?”
“Why, because I’m wearing too much aftershave?”
“Ah, sometimes you do actually,” Emmy said quickly.
“I do not,” he objected.
Poppy stopped what she was doing and looked up at him seriously. “No, it’s true. Sometimes you wear too much.”
“Okay, I can take a hint. I’m going upstairs.”
He walked away and started up the first stair, but then stopped. He looked back at them. His house was alive and buzzing with a kind of colorful chaos that filled it from floor to ceiling, the place was almost bursting with it. This wasn’t something he was used to, but he liked it. A lot. And he especially liked having Poppy here. She brightened everything up, just like her namesake. The house had been very dark for a while now, and it felt like she was the ray of sunshine it desperately needed.
CHAPTEREIGHTY-THREE
Poppy
“Uh . . .” I lifted the fork to my lips again. “Uh . . . it’s very . . . um,” I was searching for a word other than “shit.”
“Interesting,” Ryan offered up.
I nodded. “Yes, interesting. Good word. The chicken definitely explodes on your palate,” I said, thinking about the lines fromMasterChef. “I mean, you can tell that the onion is the hero of the dish and this ‘jus’ is definitely quite a symphony of flavors.” I tried to take another bite, but it was very hard.
