AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I am not genetically prone to diabetes.”
“How do you know about your genetics?”
“My trainer and nutritionist talk about it with me.”
“Do they give you reports?”
“They do. Where is the food?”
He thumbs toward the refrigerator. “In there.”
I am not quite certain what to do next. In my safe houses, my bodyguards and staff served me. I was free to have specific snacks, always prepared in advance by a chef who delivered all portions. Eating anything outside the scope of my daily nutrition was, well…
Impossible.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re hesitating.” Cam opens the right-side silver door, revealing an abundance of food. Small, pre-packaged containers, glass with white lids, fill one side of the fridge, while the crisper drawers are full of fruits and vegetables. “Eat whatever you want.”
“I had that protein bar before we arrived.”
“That was twenty hours ago, Paigelynn.”
“Twenty hours? How long have I been asleep?”
“Nineteen.”
“NINETEEN HOURS?”
“I slept for thirteen. We needed it.”
“No wonder I am so hungry.” As I look over the plums and grapes in the lower drawer, then see small wheels of cheese in red wax, an insatiable starving feeling overcomes me.
“Go on.” He waves at the food. “Eat.”
“I need help,” I confess.
“Help?”
“I have – have never – not since the Before Times – eaten anything that was not carefully measured and apportioned for me.”
He closes his eyes as if in pain. “So that part of my report was true?”
“Report?”
“I received information about how they treat you. You are on a carefully calibrated nutrition regimen. Vitamin shots, hormone balancing, careful nutrition for optimal health.”
“Yes. Bloodwork every three months. Maintaining control and restraint is key to being in prime shape for my destiny.”
His eyes narrow, and he turns away from me, reaching for a glass container. Cam opens it and looks at me. “You like lasagna?”
“Oh, no. No pasta. I can eat resistant starch carbohydrates, of course. Legume pasta is fine. I need a balance of nuts and – ”
Smiling, he walks to a microwave and begins heating the glass container. Then he goes into the freezer and pulls out a small box, yellow cardboard with bright red letters on it.
“Egg rolls,” he says, opening a small door on an odd-looking countertop over, pulling out a silver cooking sheet. “I’m sure there’s some good soy sauce here, too.”
