I eat the last bite of the roasted chicken, holding back a rumble of satisfaction. The meat is tender and perfectly seasoned. Falkor has gone all out for us tonight. Aside from the chicken, he’s made mashed potatoes with real butter, green beans that aren’t from a can, and homemade gravy.
The old male is watching us from across the table, his eyes crinkling at the corners as Wren and I clean our plates. I’d pick it up and lick it if I could.
Wren puts down her fork. “That was absolutely delicious. You’re spoiling us rotten.”
“She’s right,” I add, pushing my empty plate forward and leaning back in my chair. “That might’ve been the best meal I’ve had in months.”
Falkor’s face lights up. “Oh, you’re both too kind. It’s nothing really. Just some simple home cooking.”
“Don’t be so modest,” Wren insists, giving him a light tap on the arm.
“Well,” Falkor says, pushing back from the table with a pleased smile, “in that case, how about some dessert? I could whip up some—”
“I really can’t,” Wren groans. “I ate half my weight in potatoes.”
Falkor looks over at me.
I lift both hands. “Good thing you made two chickens because I’m pretty sure I had one to myself.” I shake my head. “Thank you, but no…I can’t fit anything else in this stomach.”
“Besides, you’ve already done way too much,” Wren adds.
Falkor waves a hand. “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do for you both.” His expression turns serious, his eyes moving between us. “My house is looking better than it has in years, thanks to you two. I had almost forgotten how bright this place could be.”
Warmth blooms in my chest at his words, but it’s tinged with guilt. We’re putting him in danger just by being here.
“Annnd,” Falkor continues, his voice dropping lower, more emotional, “after your ordeal today, you both deserve some good food. You deserve to feel safe and cared for.” He reaches across the table and pats Wren’s hand, then mine. “You’re such a wonderful couple. So in love. At the very start of your lives together. You really don’t deserve…” his voice cracks slightly,“this horrible thing that’s happening to you both. It’s just so wrong.”
I open my mouth to correct him, but Wren beats me to it.
“Actually, Falkor,” she says, her cheeks flushing pink, “we’re not a couple, remember? We’re just friends.”
Falkor’s eyebrows lift. He looks between us, his head tilting slightly like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Are you sure about that? Because I could have sworn…” He gestures vaguely at us. “You two look right together. Like you belong. The way you look at each other, the way you move around each other… I was certain you were together.”
I catch Wren’s eye and give her a look.
She gives me a small shrug and a half-smile, her eyes dancing with something I can’t quite read. Amusement? Embarrassment? Something else?
“Nahhh,” I assure Falkor, keeping my voice steady and firm. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
“Well,” Falkor says, still looking unconvinced, “if you say so.” He laughs, his eyes hazy as his mind wanders. “Luna and I were in denial as well at first.” He shakes his head. “Thankfully, we managed to pull our heads out of our asses.” He laughs again. “Or we would have missed out on so much.”
“It’s clear to see that you miss her,” Wren says.
“Oh yes. It’s like I lost a part of myself when she passed.” His eyes grow watery. I suddenly realize how exhausted he looks. I’m not going to let him go to quite so much trouble tomorrow. It’s taken it out of him.
I stand. “Let us clean up. It’s the least we can do after that amazing meal.”
Wren gets up too. “Absolutely. You cooked, so we will clean up.”
Falkor starts to protest, half-rising from his seat.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—” He’s cut off by a yawn that he tries unsuccessfully to hide behind his hand.
“You should go to bed, Falkor. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m fine,” he insists, but another yawn betrays him.
“You’re not fine,” Wren says. She moves around the table and places her hand on his shoulder. “You need rest. Today was stressful for all of us. You didn’t take your usual nap because you were too worried about us.”
