Chapter 6
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Celebrities are weird. Best not think too hard about it.
Clara
After taking a bite of my homemade fettuccine, Morana slaps her hands against the table, and I stiffen. It’s horrible, isn’t it? But, no. I tasted it. I tasted it, and it wasamazing. What’s wrong with hers? Did she oversalt it? I didn’t see her pick up the shaker. Is she gluten free? Oh my goodness. She’s gluten free, isn’t she?
Have I killed her?
“I’m dragging Kyran out of bed. It’s acrimeto miss out on this meal. Acrime.” Pushing her chair out, she marches from the kitchen, leaving me shellshocked, and everyone else…perfectly fine?
I scan the other members of Lukas’s family, just to make sure. Apart from Kyran, Kaleb, and Crimson, everyone who was at dinner yesterday has gathered around the table for lunch today.
Maybe Italian was a bad idea for the first main meal of the day? We did have lasagna last night. Lukas definitely works out and probably has a strict diet he adheres to, so this is a lot of fat within the same twenty-four hour period. I’m such an idiot. I should think these things through better…space out meals more effectively…research nutrient balance and what best helps him look like…well…a tower of muscle.
Big muscle men like him probably do not get that way by eating fatty foods.
Terrified, I glance at Lukas, ready for his rampant disapproval and a stern talking to.
He is shoveling food into his face like a hungry hippo. Swirling nearly his entire plate of pasta onto his fork, he stuffs it in his mouth, and disintegrates into vapor. Eyes closed, he chews, breathes, swallows, then says, “Yes.”
My heart jumps. “It’s good?”
“Goodis insufficient.” His eyes snap open. “Viktor, I need a better word.”
“Divine,” Crisis interjects—because Viktor is also very busy eating like his life depends on it. “Exquisite. Sublime. Maelin, your sister’s not allowed to cook anymore. Only Clara. All hail Clara.”
Maelin, equally in a trance, murmurs, “No notes.”
“None,” Zakery confirms. “Someone tell Kyran to coerce a woman home with him. We’re clearly good at picking them. The genepool needs to take advantage of this gift.”
Maelin giggles when her husband waggles his brows at her.
“He’d have to leave the house first.” Lukas chuckles, already reaching for seconds. Setting his refilled plate down, he looks at me, then lifts a hand toward my hair, brushing a bit of flour from my bangs.
I startle, reaching for the strands. “Sorry. I’m a mess… I should have cleaned up before sitting down to eat.”
“Shh. You’ve been working hard all day for me.”
“Us,” Crisis states.
“Me,” Lukas repeats, pinning the lock behind my ear. “Eat up, buttercup. You’ve done such a good job, and you should enjoy it.”
I have done a…good job? Picking up my fork, I twist, gathering the tender noodles onto the prongs. They’re softer than store bought dried. “I still need to work a little bit on the consistency I think.”
“Really?” Lukas asks. “I think they’re delicious. And the sauce…incredible.”
Flushing as heat suffuses throughout my limbs, I smile. “You think?” I chew my lip as I dip a corner of some white bread I found in the kitchen through the sauce on my plate. “It’s nothing special. I’d like it to be a little thicker, but…if you like it like this, I won’t meddle.”
“Don’t trust his unrefined palate, Clara,” Viktor mumbles around a mouthful. “You’re the pro here. We’re ruffians who have been surviving off my mac and cheese recipe for way too long. Your worst dish is still a delicacy to us. Trust your knowledge, and continue to wow us as you outdo yourself.”
Oh dear. I sure hope I can live up to this confidence. All I’m doing is following recipes I find online. It’s not even my effort at this point. Anyone can follow clear instructions. I’m an imposter.
“It’s delicious,” Morana’s saying as she marches back into the kitchen, Kyran in tow. “Best pasta I’ve ever had.”
“Mmf,” Kyran grumbles, intelligently, squinting eyes fixed on Morana’s hand around his while he shuffles into the room.
