She scowled at me, just as her phonepingedwith a new message.
Rina placed the notebook and pencil back on the nightstand before grabbing her phone. She quickly read the text, then twisted the phone so that I, too, could read the message.
It was from Miguel, and it said:Bom dia, pequena. Just checking in, as usual. I really enjoyed that audiobook you suggested last week. I finished it yesterday, and I’m curious to know your thoughts on it. How are you today? Did you take your medications? I love you.
“When did he become so civil, knowing you’re here with me and he can’t do anything about it?” I told Rina.
It was more of a rhetorical question, but still one that I had no logical explanation or answers for.
She shrugged, then texted him back before showing me the response.
You should come over this weekend, Avô. We can discuss the audiobook, and you can have dinner with Myles and I. He’s started cooking these days, and I have to admit: it’s a pretty…interesting hobby.
I couldnotbelieve this woman.
“Did you really have to put me out like that?” I asked her.
She simply flashed her teeth at me.
I put my tongue to my cheek. “Just for the record: I make a pretty mean Greek salad. And meatballs. And beef sandwich. And a couple other things I can’t name right now because you’ve left me too dumbfounded by your lack of belief in me.”
She pressed her lips together.Well, make something for me, then, she signed.I’m hungry.
She spelled the word ‘then’ instead of signing it, so it took me a moment to understand it.
“What do you wanna eat?” I asked her.
She shrugged as she scratched the back of her hand.Anything. Just feed me; I’m hungry.
I raised my brows at her. “Feed you, huh?”
She looked about ready to strangle me as she glared up at me.
I laughed, then bent to place soft kisses on her eyelids, her cheeks, and her jaw. “You know I couldn’t help it,” I said against her skin.
I know, she signed, then rolled her eyes, but I still saw her smile a pretty little smile at me.
So, I erased the space between us and tasted it once, then tasted it again before saying, “Come on, let’s go make some dinner.”
52. The Damn Parsley
It wassonot going well, and Myles looked like he was in complete shambles as he ran around our kitchen wearing his teal apron with the word ‘Yummy’ written right over the crotch area. I had no doubt it was one of the few things Daniel had gotten him when he’d stopped by yesterday to check in on me. You’d think Myles would take the apron as a joke and toss it in the back of one of the drawers, but to see him actually wear it…
“Where’s the parsley?” he muttered to himself as he sifted through various items in the pantry. “WHERE’S THE DAMN PARSLEY?!”
I grimaced when he yelled, then shifted in the chair he’d helped me in a few minutes ago.
He’d taken the elevation pillow out into the living room, placed it on a small pile of cushion pillows in front of a chair next to the kitchen counter, then lifted me in his arms before helping me settle into the chair. He’d then slowly, carefully, risen my injured leg, placed it on the pillow, and given me a swift kiss before putting that absurd apron on over his red Blackhawks tank top.
He was just too good to me, and even though I felt like I didn’t deserve him, I still didn’t wanna let go of him.
Selfish intentions and all, y’know.
“Aha! There you are!” He wiggled a plastic box full of chopped parsley, up in the air.
He was makingCoxinhafor the two of us. It was kind of a complex yet super delicious Brazilian dish made of chicken and flour, with a few spices and veggies in the mix, and was also one of my favorite fried snacks for when that craving for somethingextrahit me.
The kitchen was a mess, with bowls, knives, spices, and chicken packets strewneverywhere. A YouTube video of two women teaching how to makeCoxinha, was playing on Myles’s phone, whereas a Brazilian cookbook lay open to his right. He was scrolling through a food blog on his MacBook, clearly reading and comparing the recipe with the other two alternatives.
