Page 36 of The More the Merrier

Okay then.

Grabbing a pan from the drying rack, he starts talking as he puts it on the stove next to the pot of water.

“You have nothing of any nutritional value, so I’m putting something together with what you do have. It’s a dish my ma taught me so I could feed my brothers when she worked late.”

I’m absolutely fascinated by his accent, with the rolling ‘r’s and his unique inflections. The rumbling of his voice also does things to me I’d rather not think about.

“There’s a big fancy Italian name for it, but basically it’s spaghetti with garlic oil.”

As he works, adding oil and garlic flakes to the rapidly heating pan, he explains what he’s doing.

“Really this should be done with fresh garlic, but in a pinch, this will do. You can add some pepper flakes, too, if that’s to your taste.”

The pan sizzles as he adds the flakes along with some green herb shit that was hiding in the cupboard, too. The water is boiling nicely now so he tears open the packet of spaghetti and pours it into the water.

I’m fascinated by him as he moves around. For such a huge man, he’s actually quite graceful and seems very at home in the kitchen.

“So you gonna tell me your name yet, Little Mouse?”

Oh! That’s what he asked me earlier. A small part of me is tempted to keep my name to myself, so I can carry on being his Little Mouse. But then I remember I’m nothisanything so I blurt it out.

“Zanya.”

“That’s a pretty name,” he says, resting against the opposite kitchen counter, one foot nonchalantly resting over the other. His attention leaves me feeling itchy all over. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zanya. While that boils, I think it best you tell me how you got into Mr. Parker's place.”

“Oh, I’m not going to reveal my sources. And while we’re talking, there are a few things we need to discuss about this plan of yours.”

“Oh,ja?”

“Yes. I have a day job, you know. They’ll miss me.”

“What do you do?” he asks, turning back to the stove to give the garlic another stir.

“I work at a charity for kids. I do their admin, help them clean, and do activities with the kids. It’s kind of a rec center where they can come and hang out, do some crafts and get a decent meal. For most of them, it’s the only safe space they know.” I look up from my hands, where I’d been picking at the cuticles while talking.

He’s looking at me again, the look on his face indecipherable. “You care about this place.”

“Yes. Growing up, I was fostered. I spent a lot of time there until I was adopted. And even after that my parents and I helped out together.” I stop myself from saying more, not wanting to give away all my secrets, instead opting to hit him where it should hurt most. “This year, there isn’t enough to keep them going anymore. And it’s almost Christmas, so I’m just trying to keep them afloat for at least that long so the kids can have one last solid Christmas before the world turns to shit again.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll help you get it for them. I’ve already said I’ll train you, and I’ll make sure, even after Christmas, that this place stays open.”

His face is serious and incredibly earnest. And he’s throwing me for a huge fucking loop.

“Why the hell would you do that after I stole from your boss?”

“Because, Little Mouse, the passion in your voice when you talk about that place? Everyone should be so lucky to feel like that over something. I’d hate to be part of the reason it gets taken away from you.” He drops this little bomb on me and then turns back to the stove. I watch as he drains the pasta and pours it into the pan with the sizzling garlic, all the while still explaining to me what he’s doing and why.

He’s carrying on like he didn’t just rock my world.

And then… he does it some more. Dishing up a huge plate of pasta, he steps up to me, rolls some on a fork and blows on it. When he’s seemingly satisfied with it, he holds it to my lips, waiting for me to open up.

What is going on right now? I could grumble at his insistence to feed me like a toddler. But then I’d be a big fat hypocrite, wouldn't I? This is precisely what I’ve been dreaming about my entire adult existence.

So I open up my mouth and savour the taste of garlic goodness on my tongue. A soft hum of enjoyment escapes my lips as I chew and swallow the bite. Before I know it, the next one is right there ready and waiting for me.

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