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I can’t blame him. I don’t want to let Fiona out of my sight. Too bad I have to each day. The building doorman holds the door open for Mellie. She hurries across the pavement and into the SUV, where I’m keeping the door open for her. I close the door firmly as she slides in, waving to them and heading upstairs.
I breathe a little easier when I walk into the condo and see Fiona perched at the kitchen island. She glances up as I enter, throwing me a smile. This is a sight I could get used to. The only thing that could make it more perfect was if she wasn’t injured.
Crossing to the kitchen, I kiss her upturned face, sliding onto the stool beside her. Gently lifting Fiona’s bandaged hand, I turn it over, ensuring the bandage is still secure before looking over the takeout menu she is perusing.
“D’ye feel like Chinese food,leannán?”
Fiona sighs, shrugging and glancing over at me, wrinkling her nose adorably.
“Not particularly. It’s the only takeout menu you have.”
I got her a new phone. I don’t know why she doesn’t just use a delivery app. I’m about to ask when I catch myself. Maybe she’s a bit cautious about random delivery drivers. I know I am. Switching course, I nod at her bandaged hand.
“D’ye find it frustrating that ye can’t cook yerself?”
Fiona laughs dryly, smirking over at me. “Yeah. Sorry to end your daydream of domestic bliss… but I can’t cook. Like. At all.”
I blink and grin. Leaning over, I kiss her mouth firmly, smirking back at her.
“Believe it or not,leannán, I don’t actually like ye for yer domestic skills.”
Fiona stares at me in surprise.
“I’ll not boast of being the best cook in the world, but I’ve managed not to starve so far.”
Fiona’s eyebrows shoot up as I stand, rounding the kitchen island and moving to the fridge.
“What d’ye feel like eating,leannán?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder, where the lass is gaping at me.
“You’re going to cook me dinner?” she squeaks. I chuckle at the disbelief in her tone.
“Aye, I was thinking about it,” I reply dryly, turning back to see what is in my fridge. “It won’t be fancy, but I can do ye meat and three veg.”
Fiona giggles as I snag the pork chops and throw them onto the kitchen counter next to the stove, biting back a contented smile.
I love the sound of Fiona’s giggles. It’s not a sound I’ve heard much of. I imagine it’s not a sound anyone has heard much of. Fiona is too serious for her age. I like it when she giggles – it makes her sound carefree. It makes her sound twenty-three.
Turning, I grin at her as I search my kitchen cabinets for a pan and chopping board.
“What’s so amusing,leannán?” I cock a brow as Fiona rolls her eyes at me.
“You’re seriously going to cook me dinner?” She sounds as skeptical as she looks. I plant my hands on the kitchen island, leaning across to brush my lips over hers.
“I’m seriously going to cook ye dinner,” I agree as she blinks rapidly. “Is that all right with ye, lass?”
“Yes,” she whispers, looking absurdly touched. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”
I frown, starting to chop the potatoes and carrots. “Why would ye need to keep it a secret?”
Fiona shrugs, smoothing her good hand over the kitchen island. “Can you imagine Seamus cooking Tiggy dinner?”
I smirk at the very idea. Seamus would probably set fire to a pot of boiling water. The man is useless for domestic things.
“I think my masculinity can take people knowing I cooked ye dinner.”
Fiona grins impishly at me, giggling again. “Well, in that case… Maybe I’ll brag about it to Mellie tomorrow.”
I grin back at her, dropping the potatoes in a pot of water and moving it to the stove.
