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Fifty-Two
Magnolia
Daisy had initially warmed to me after that night with the cream sauce. The other day she even asked if she could borrow my cropped wool-blend cardigan from Alaïa and I said yes, of course, but in the spirit of full disclosure, I admittedly had just had sex with her brother in it a few hours prior and she thanked me for my honesty and retracted her request. I’m now back in Antarctica because I assume that Christian told her we nearly had sex in New York.
So I’m following her around her kitchen trying to make her like me again, and because she’s a control freak, I thought maybe if I let her boss me around in the kitchen, her hardened exterior would soften towards me. I’m going to crack her like a macaron. Julian said not to tell her that.
It’s all a bit thrilling though. She’s a bit like my own personal, meaner version of Gordon Ramsey.
“For fuck’s sake, Magnolia,” she growls at me. “You don’t scramble the eggs, you fold them.”
I stomp my foot. “That fundamentally does not make sense.”
Julian and Declan glance up from the table.
She blinks at me a few times. “How’s that now?”
“Because they’re not called ‘folded eggs’ — they’re called scrambled eggs.”
Julian laughs and I scowl at him.
“Yes.” She gives me a long look. “Do you not remember when we scrambled those in a bowl about, I don’t know, forty-five seconds ago?”
I nod. “I do remember that.”
“Is it possible that may have achieved the scrambling?”
I put my nose in the air. “Could have—”
“What’s going on here, then?” Jack Giles asks, walking in. “Why are you making eggs at 9pm on a Friday night?”
“Because Magnolia can’t cook for shit,” Daisy tells him brightly.
“Hey.” I frown.
Daisy ignores me.
“We tried pasta, a steak, ceviche—”
“Why did you even bother trying that?” Julian says to her.
She ignores him too.
“Cupcakes, cookies—”
“—Those were good!” I interrupt with a frown.
“You ate the dough,” she snaps and I give up, leaving the spatula in the pan to go sit on her brother’s lap.
She looks at the spatula and then over to me. “Did you just—” She stares wide eyed at the pan. “The stove is on.”
“So?” I frown.
She blinks more. “Thank god you’re pretty.” She turns away.
“Did you hear that?” I lean into Julian’s ear. “She thinks I’m pretty!”
He snorts a laugh and kisses me.
