Page 36 of Craving Their Omega

I manage to slop egg all over the counter when I’m whisking them up in a bowl that’s not quite big enough for eggs for four people. The veggies aren’t chopped evenly, so some of them burn in the pan while others are still crunchy in the middle. I have to turn on the fan over the stove to wick away the scent of burnt mushrooms, and I grumble to myself before giving up and scraping the whole mess into the trash.

As I stand there, debating starting again and trying to do the veggies better, I hear footsteps on the stairs. One after the other,the men file into the kitchen, and they all stand there, staring at me and the mess I’ve made.

My heart leaps into my throat. This was not the impression I wanted to make. I wanted them to see me pouring juice and setting down four perfect omelets on the table for us to eat together, not hovering between the stove and the fridge trying to salvage what I can out of this disaster.

“Good morning,” Xavier says cheerfully. “What’s all this?”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a mess. I just wanted to make breakfast for us, since it’s our first morning in the new house, but I messed it up.” I curl my fingers into fists at my side, staring at the beautifully tiled kitchen floor. “I shouldn’t have tried to cook. It’s not what I’m good at, and I just thought…”

I trail off, not even sure what to say that won’t make me sound useless and pathetic to these men. They’re probably used to gourmet breakfasts made by private chefs at Michelin starred restaurants or something. Not whatever I could come up with in our kitchen before work.

“It’s not the end of the world, little bird,” Dominic says. He still sounds gruff, but at least he’s not angry. “Dishes can be washed, and… whatever that is can be thrown out.”

“Yeah,” Xavier chimes in. “And it’s the thought that counts, right? It was nice of you to want to do something like that for us.”

I swallow back the ‘I shouldn’t have bothered’ that wants to come out of my mouth and give them both shaky smiles. I glance at Tristan, and even though he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t look upset either. He just shrugs a shoulder when he sees me looking and crosses to the counter to put on coffee.

“I know you guys have… standards,” I tell them. “I mean, look at this house. Of course you have standards. And… I know Dominic doesn’t seem to like when things aren’t perfect.” I glance at him nervously, wringing my hands together behind my back.

“You are perfect,” Dominic says, and my eyes go wide as saucers.

I have no idea how to respond to that, and I also don’t know if he’s just saying it to make me feel better or if he actually thinks that. There’s no way to ask him that won’t make me sound pathetic either.

Xavier moves to the stove and turns the fan off, then leans over the sink to open the window there, letting fresh air sweep the rest of the smell of my failed attempt at breakfast out of the kitchen.

“You don’t have to cook for us anyway,” Xavier says. “You’re not here to be our maid or anything.”

“I know, I just wanted to do something nice.”

“We don’t need nice. We just need you to be yourself, little bird,” Dominic chimes in. He grabs the cutting board, still half full of mangled veggies and dumps the mess in the trash. “Just make what you would normally eat if this whole situation wasn’t happening.”

My lips twist in a smile because if this wasn’t happening, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be at my apartment, debating between making my favorite sandwich or microwaving a cup of oatmeal to eat before I ran out the door for work.

The absurdity of the thought of making something like that in a kitchen like this makes me laugh. “I really don’t think you would want to eat what I usually make when I’m left to my own devices.”

Dominic raises an eyebrow at me. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“It’s not!” I insist. “It’s just not the sort of thing you guys are probably used to. I know you get fancy meals catered in and things like that, and I’ve seen what the cafeteria at Vantage serves on a regular basis.”

Xavier grins, leaning against the counter with his arms folded. “Well, now you have to make it for us.” He glances at the clock. “If there’s time.”

“Oh, it’s very quick. That’s one of the reasons it’s so good. It’s easy to make and then run out the door.”

“All the more reason to make it then,” Dominic points out.

I glance at Tristan, who still hasn’t spoken yet this morning. He looks back, and there’s no expression on his face, but there’s something in his eyes. It looks like it could be curiosity, but that could just be wishful thinking. Either way, having two of the three of them urging me on makes it easier to give in.

“Okay,” I relent. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“We’re not that rich,” Xavier says. “Okay, we are, but that doesn’t mean we have to eat foie gras and caviar every night. Sometimes we order pizza, just like normal people.”

I giggle, going to the fridge and taking out a jar before heading to the pantry and grabbing another jar. There’s a fresh loaf of bread in the bread box on the counter—an honest to god bread box, and they want me to think they’re not that rich. I grab it, then lay out everything I need to start assembling sandwiches.

I can feel their eyes on me, watching as I dip from one jar with a knife and then use a fork to sort through the other one.

“Wait…” Xavier says, leaning in around me to see better. “Is that… are those pickles?”

“And peanut butter,” I reply, nodding sagely. “It’s the best combination.”

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