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“Tell me that you’re not going to make soup.”

She laughed and shook her head. “No. I’m going to make some crostini. Because we have a very nice baguette, and I have lovely roasted vegetables to put on it. Tomatoes, balsamic. Some cheese.”

“Did you ever think about being a chef?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I like what we do. It’s fun. It makes the most of our resourcefulness.” Her face fell just slightly. “Of course, you have your own business now.”

“Likely, we will end up merging. And growing everybody’s business tenfold.”

“As if we need the money.”

“But what else is there to do?”

She shrugged. “Live, maybe. What do you think of that?”

She made it sound so easy.

“I don’t know about all that.”

“So you’re just going to be my guard dog, and make money.”

“It’s a damn sight more than any of our parents ever did for us.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “That is true. What do you like?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You just asked me if I ever considered being a chef,” she said, taking out a large knife and beginning to slice the long baguette. “Because you noticed that I like cooking. I always have. I always cooked for all of us, and it was not because I was the girl.”

“Yes. I remember you being quite adamant about that.”

“I liked it. Because it was a way that I could take care of you. You both protected me, physically. And you stole things from the store, put yourself at risk all the time. I didn’t even know that you were risking life and limb in the fighting ring at the time. For us. So cooking for you seems like a small thing. And I do like to do it. I’m looking forward to doing it for our family.”

“I’ve never had a family dinner.”

The look on her face was soft. Filled with pity. Why did she pity him? She hadn’t had anything normal either.

“I think we kind of did. Before my mother died. But I was so young, I don’t really recall. Sometimes I think I do. But then I wonder if I’m just remembering walking by houses and seeing other families eat their dinners. If I wanted to join them so badly that I turned it into my memory. I like to think that our mother loved us. Mainly though, what I remember is our father was a bully. He didn’t want to deal with us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Adonis, why did your father throw you out?”

“I escaped,” he said. “And I suppose at that point he didn’t much care to try and keep me.”

“Oh.” They were silent for a moment, and she began to put toppings on the slices of bread. “But what is it that you like?”

“I’ve never done anything because I enjoyed it,” he said. “I’ve only done things because they would increase my chances of survival.”

She turned to him. “That’s unacceptable. Come on. Come over here.”

“What?”

“You’re going to cook with me. Because now I feel very strongly we have to figure out what it is you like. The fact that you don’t know is egregious.”

“There are far more important things in this world than me figuring out what I like to do.”

“Nonsense,” she said. She took his hand, and forced him to stand up. Obviously he could’ve resisted, but…he didn’t want to.