If it wasn’t for Eli, I’d have smashed a frying pan into his face on day one.
Eli. This is all for him. I have to remind myself of that fact every day, all day long, like a mantra in my head. Otherwise, I’llnever keep my sanity.
It’s good, in a way, that I’m the one making breakfast. The first few days, Eli wouldn’t eat a single thing that came out ofLouis’s kitchen. I tried explaining it to the chef and Brad that he’s particular about textures, that his foods need to be separatedso the flavors won’t mix, but he wouldn’t listen.
You’re spoiling him. Look, he’s turned into a mumbling i***t because of you.
I grip my pan tighter. One day, I’ll make him eat those words with a side of maple syrup.
I start with the pancakes. They’re delicate work—getting them just th
