She plops him down in his seat, reaches across him with his plate, and piles a mound of noodles high before dropping it before him. “Eat. Love. Rave.”
He does not eat, love, or rave. Instead, he complains, “Viktor, can we make a rule that Morana’s not allowed to wake me up? It’s abuse.”
“Baby,” she clips.
“Dominatrix,” he mutters.
A smirk broadens her lips as she leans in. “Icouldbe. But not foryou, brother dear.”
I’m uncertain whether Kyran turns red…or green. I am certain that he melts into his chair as Morana returns to hers. Stuffing food in his mouth, he chews thoughtfully, then says, “Amazing. Ten out of ten. Phenomenal reviews on Yelp. Someone get me a glowstick, I’m raving.”
I’m not positive, but I think Morana kicks him under the table.
Viktor says, “Do I need to come over there?”
“No,” Morana chirps, sighing merrily into a bite of pasta.
Relief swells as conversation meanders steadily away from the food, and accomplishment soars inside me once everyone’s done eating, leaving nothing but an empty pot behind.
People liked my food.
Peoplelovedmy food.
This is incredible. This is the most incredible feeling I have ever experienced.
I love this.
Ilovethis.
I’m allowed to have more of this?
From behind, fingers tease my hair as I gather ingredients to get my cheese bread dough rising for dinner tonight, and I look up at Lukas. Regaining a flush, I ask, “Do I still have flour on me?” I really need to clean up. I can’t just plow right from cooking one meal to cooking the next when I’m a mess.
Mise en place, and all that.
“No.” His fingers keep playing, even in the absence of flour. “Whatcha doin’?”
Chewing my cheek, I turn to the bread flour I’m opening. “I was going to start some cheese bread. To go with dinner.” I didn’t plan a proper dinner beyond the bread. My heart drops. I’m already failing at this. But surely it’ll be okay? We have plenty of stuff I can make into meals. I don’t have to planeverythingahead of time. So long as I make sure food isn’t going bad, it’s probably fine. “Do you have any requests?”
“Sandwiches,” Kyran notes as he delivers a stack of dirty plates to the sink counter beside Morana. “Cheese bread sandwiches. Toasted.”
Morana scowls at him. “Let her cook, and keep your sandwich obsession out of it.” She tosses him a washcloth. “Now, go wipe down the table.”
He dips his head in a bow. “As you wish, my liege.”
“Morana,” Lukas says, referencing the dirty counter full of dishes, “I can take care of this.”
“No thanks. I need the points.” She doesn’t look at him as she opens the washer and begins rinsing and stacking, which I was going to do, after I got the dough rising. Do I not need to do the clean up here? Even though I’m the one who made the mess?
“Points?” Lukas prompts.
“Don’t bother,” Kyran mutters at the table. “She’s insane. She has a whole littlesystem.”
“More scrubbing, less talking,” Morana states.
Lukas laughs. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt a system.” His attention shifts from the dishes to me. “How about things over here? Can I help you with anything, cupcake?”
I scan my ingredients. “Do you know how to bloom yeast?” My stomach clenches. “Sorry, that was arrogant. You can bloom the yeast, if you’d like? Or you can mix the dry ingredients?”
