We worked around each other easily.
Laughing.
Tasting the broth.
Arguing over whether it needed more spice.
I watched Zacian as he stirred the pot.
“You know something?” I said.
“What?”
“I wanna live in France.”
That got his attention.
He turned around slowly. “What?”
“I looked up the schools. The healthcare. Everything.” I shrugged. “I loved it there.”
He leaned back against the counter, watching me. “You serious?”
“I’m serious.” I took another sip of my drink. “I’ll do anything to get away from Mrs. Wells.”
His expression tightened slightly.
I added casually, “She’s been coming over here while you’re gone.”
His face changed. “What?”
I waved my hand like it wasn’t a big deal.
“I’ve been sending her away.”
“She’s been popping up here, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought you saw her on the cameras.”
Zay shook his head slowly. “Nah.” His tone dropped a little. “Don’t let her in.”
“I haven’t.”
“She carries bad energy.”
Something about the way he said that made a small chill run through me.
But he turned back to the stove like the conversation was finished.
A few minutes later, the gumbo was done.
We left it simmering so the flavors could settle.
The smell filled the whole house.
Lil Zay had finally worn himself out.
Zay stretched out on the couch with him curled against his chest.
