“It’s good,” he says.
I exhale, almost vibrating with joy because I might not have mentioned that I missed a step or two in the recipe but glad it turned out well.
“I was so scared you wouldn’t like it.” I admit. “I’m getting better at cooking and very soon, I’ll be the boss between us.”
He scoops another spoonful. “I’m looking forward to that.”
***********
JUSTIN’S POV
The soup is not good.
I take another spoonful because she is watching me with this barely contained happiness on her face and I am not a monster.
White rice soup is, at its core, rice and water. Maybe stock if you’re feeling ambitious. Salt. It is one of the more forgiving things a person can attempt in a kitchen, which makes what is currently in my mouth a quiet mystery I intend to take to my grave.
It’s simul
