Page 41 of Mine Forever
Bacon pops and she moves to tend to it. It smells amazing.
Eden always made incredible meals. But they weren’t always appreciated in her house.
I clear my throat.
“When did you start cooking again?”
A pang hits my gut when the smile on her lips is as tight as the little top she wears. She keeps her gaze fixed on the sizzling strips of pork.
“When I moved to New York. I know I said I’d never cook again after everything with my mother. But that was silly. It just wasn’t feasible to eat out all the time in the city. Unlike Carrie Bradshaw, I had to actually use my oven.”
She glances over at me with a smirk. “I bet you ate out all the time when you lived there.”
I shake my head, sipping my coffee. “Not so much. Especially during the season since I didn’t have much time. I had a cook though.”
“Ah, yes.” She points the tongs at me. “So you still didn’t have to cook.”
I chuckle. “No, I didn’t.”
She shakes her head and then looks around the kitchen. “I haven’t cooked in a kitchen this nice since I left home. The last time, that is.”
I study her face, letting her words sink into the silence. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
To say those kind words when her mother was such a rotten human is like licking a sweaty jock strap.
Still, it had been her mother.
She half turns to me, her mouth softening a bit. I hold her stare and something passes between us. An understanding of sorts.
“Thanks. She’s better off now.”
I hear the words she doesn’t say.
She’s better off now too.
Eden and her mother’s relationship had been rocky at best and downright toxic at worst.
Josephine Mitchell had made it her mission in life to make Eden’s life miserable just because she could.
Especially when it came to me.
The woman hadn’t liked me since the first time she laid eyes on me.
The only thing I’ve ever been able to figure out is I messed with Josephine’s whacked-out plan to keep Eden on a tight, choking leash.
And I made Eden want to break free.
In the end though, the leash had proved to be too strong.
With her chin, Eden gestures toward the living area’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “It’s gotten worse, I see.”
Change of subject. That doesn’t surprise me.
I recognize the shuttered emotion in her eyes. It’s the samelook I see in the mirror every day, and have for the last several years.
“The forecast is calling for it to get worse before it gets better. We’re going to take a decent hit from it. I expect the power to go out anytime now.”
“You said you have a generator, right?”
