He chews.
I chew.
We chew like obedient fucking idiots.
She relaxes as she sets the glasses of milk in front of us, then turns back to the counter.
I keep eating. Cookie after cookie.
My jaw hurts.
My soul suffers.
I would rather take a bullet than go through this again, but my woman made them…
She finally turns back toward us and reaches for the plate.
“Leave one for me,” she says.
“Fuck no,” I snap. “Sorry,” I add around a mouthful, “too good to share.”
I shove the last bite from my hand into my mouth before she can even blink, then grab the plate with three cookies still on it. One goes straight into my mouth. One remains clenched in my fist.
The third I push into Adriano’s mouth before he has time to object.
He closes his eyes with a defeated grunt as he chews, very likely reconsidering every poor decision that led him here.
He doesn’t say a word, so it’s safe to ease the blade away from his side.
I slide the empty plate back to her and reach for the milk again, taking long gulps.
When I notice Adriano still struggling, his throat working like he’s on the verge of being sick, I shove the glass into his hand.
“Drink,” I mutter. “It helps. Slightly.”
Across the island, she watches us, her head slightly tilted, suspicion plain on her face.
“Why did you eat them all?” she asks.
“Because they weresogood,” I reply smoothly. “Couldn’t leave a crumb.”
“But I wanted some.”
“Too bad.” I shrug.
I wasn’t about to let her taste them and crush that hopeful look on her face. I would have eaten ten more before I ever let her realise how catastrophic they were.
She studies me for a long moment, searching for the lie.
She exhales, then shrugs. “Okay. If they were that good, I can make another batch.”
Adriano slowly shakes his head. “Fuck no. I’m out.”
I elbow him in the side without looking.
Hard.
He grumbles under his breath, pushes to his feet, and leaves, still muttering to himself as he goes.
