Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Oh, that's right, because depending on how things go between a pair of stubborn, pigheaded men, this could be the final meal for one of them. I'll have to keep them from clawing each other's throats out.
“Stir the noodles, please?” I feel like my head's going to explode from everything buzzing around inside. I have to prep the vegetables to layer with the cheese and sausage and make sure the noodles don't get overcooked—there's not much I hate more than mushy pasta.
He dips a pair of tongs into the boiling water, stirring gently. “Do you want to hear something that will shock you?”
I blow out a breath, “Oh god, I don't know, yes, maybe.”
Callum grins, and I swear I'll never get over how devilishly handsome he is. “This is kind of nice.”
“You're right, I'm shocked.” Somehow I manage to take a break from stressing out to kiss him. And it is nice. It's the sort of thing I would always like to do. Working as a team, watching as he does his best to be helpful and positive. I know I'm being a real pain in the ass, freaking out, wanting everything to be perfect. He's been nothing but patient even though I know he can't be looking forward to having dinner with Dad.
“Did you ever do any cooking for yourself?” I ask while finely chopping herbs to be mixed in with the ricotta.
Shrugging, he says, “I mean, I had to eat, so yeah.”
“That's not what I meant. Do you have any signature dishes? Something you fall back on?” Ugh, did he ever make something special for Amanda? I'm starting to wish I hadn't asked.
“If you count cereal and instant ramen, sure.” I slow my chopping, looking at him. Finally, he shrugs. “We didn't have any money when I was a kid. I told you that.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“So I made do with what we had. Once I was on my own in the world, I didn't have much money either. What do they call that? The salad days?”
“I have no idea what that is but sure.”
“Every penny I made went to survival, and that's what food was then. I ate because I had to if I wanted to live. There was nothing about pleasure or enjoyment.” He snorts, and I notice his gaze moving around the spacious, gleaming kitchen. “Hot dogs chopped up in a bowl of ramen noodles was as fancy as it got.”
“That doesn't sound too bad, actually.”
“When you live on it for a week straight, you might feel a little differently.” He's smiling about it, so I guess it's easy to smile when you're on the other side.
Once I've declared the noodles a minute shy of al dente, he drains the pot and rinses the pasta according to my instructions. There's a salad already prepared in the fridge and garlic bread waiting to be placed in the oven once the lasagna comes out.
“I have to hurry,” I fret once I start putting everything together. “The lasagna needs to sit for a while to set up, or else you slice into it and it falls apart.”
“I'm learning so much tonight.” He pours himself a glass of wine from a bottle he opened for the occasion. “However, you need to take a breath. No matter what you make him, he'll love it.”
“How would you know?” I ask with a breathless laugh.
“It's part of being a father. I know what I'm talking about.”
His choice of words stirs my curiosity as I ladle sauce into the bottom of a casserole dish. “Did Tatum tell you where she's going tonight? I told her about dinner, but she said she already had plans.” I can't put my finger on it, but something about that doesn't seem right. She's spent weeks festering in bed, locked in her rooms, and now she has plans she doesn't want to share with me.
“No, she didn't want to give me any details, but she seemed happier than she's been lately, so I didn't want to give her shit about it.” He kisses my temple, probably because he sees my worries written across my face. “She's a big girl. I learned a long time ago which battles to pick, and this one's not worth it. So long as she's starting to get out in the world again, that's all that matters. Plus, I have Romero tailing her for her safety.”
He's right. I need to stop worrying about everyone else and their lives. I have more than enough on my plate, anyway.
“Everything is perfect.” Callum shakes his head and whistles in appreciation once he pulls the lasagna from the oven. “It's nice that you made this, but what did you make for you and your father?”
“Stop flattering me.” I give him a look, placing my hand on my hip.
“That is not true. This is the most gorgeous lasagna I've ever seen.” I have to admit he's right, it's perfect, and the aroma of garlic hangs in the air once the garlic bread starts baking in the oven. Just a few minutes ago, I was too nervous to even consider eating, but now my stomach is growling.