Page 31 of A Mistake of Worth
Henri’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “No, it’s...” He set the fork down, pushing a blueberry around his plate with his finger. “Marc keeps me on this special diet. You know, for bottoms.” The words came out matter-of-fact, like he was discussing the weather. “Lots of protein, limited carbs. Though these are definitely worth breaking it for.”
He took another bite, but Michael had gone very still.
The soft sizzle of butter on the griddle suddenly seemed too loud. Michael turned off the heat and moved the pan aside, then walked around the island to sit beside Henri.
“Sorry,” Henri said quickly, his shoulders tensing. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I—”
“Don’t apologize.” Michael reached for the syrup bottle, his movements deliberate and calm. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
He poured syrup generously over his own pancakes, then held the bottle over Henri’s plate. Henri started to shake his head, but Michael was already drizzling it over the stack.
“Eat what you like, Henri,” Michael said, setting the bottle down and cutting into his own breakfast.
Henri stared at his syrup-soaked pancakes. “I... I don’t really choose for myself much.” His laugh was soft, confused. “Even when I go out without Marc, I stick to what I know he’d approve of. It’s easier that way.”
Michael chewed slowly, waiting.
“Honestly,” Henri continued, his voice growing smaller, “I’m not even sure what I like anymore. It’s been so long since I had to think about it.”
Michael set down his fork, studying Henri’s face in the morning light streaming through the kitchen windows. “Then we’ll figure it out.” He kept his voice gentle, matter-of-fact. “Starting with breakfast. Do you like the blueberries?”
Henri chewed thoughtfully, considering the question as if it were a complex business problem. “I... yeah. I think I do.”
“Good. We can try other things too—strawberries, chocolate chips, bananas.” Michael took another bite of his own pancakes, letting the offer settle naturally.
Henri’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “You’d make different kinds?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Michael reached for his coffee, the question genuinely puzzling him. “Food should be something you enjoy.”
A small smile tugged at Henri’s lips. “Maybe we could try banana tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.”
They finished eating in comfortable quiet, Henri taking his time with each bite like he was cataloging the experience. When he finally pushed his plate away, he slumped back in his chair with a satisfied exhale.
“I’m so full.” He pressed a hand to his stomach, looking almost surprised. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this full.” He laughed softly. “Marc would be furious. He hates when I’m bloated.”
The laughter died as quickly as it came, Henri’s expression shifting to something apologetic. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Michael said firmly. He reached over and rubbed Henri’s stomach fondly. “I love a good food baby.”
Henri shoved his hand away with a playful swat, a genuine smile breaking through. “Stop that.”
Michael grinned and stood, gathering their plates. “Never.”
Henri immediately pushed back from the counter. “Let me help—”
“I’ve got it,” Michael said, already moving toward the sink. “Just rinsing and loading the dishwasher.”
But Henri was already at the griddle, scraping off remnants of pancake batter with focused efficiency. “At least let me do this.”
Michael paused at the sink, watching Henri’s careful movements. “You don’t have to earn your keep here, you know.”
Henri’s hands stilled for just a moment. “I like to be useful,” he said quietly, but his smile was genuine when he glanced over.
Michael stepped behind him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”
They finished cleaning in companionable silence, Henri methodical with the griddle while Michael loaded the dishwasher. When everything was put away, Michael led him to the living room.
