CHAPTER SEVEN

“Uhm... Pick the vanilla,” I stuttered.

“No, the strawberry. Or... Can’t you pick both? Like... Double layers? Or just... Make two cakes. Yeah, you should make two.”

Catherine studied me with curiosity and a tiny frown, and I suddenly couldn’t be near her anymore. It was too much to handle.

Time for a shower, Joe. A really, really cold one.

I didn’t dare to show my face the rest of the evening. Instead I hid in my room like the idiot I was and didn’t go out until I was sure they’d gone to sleep. Or put into other words; had a short break in their love making. How they weren’t tired during the daytime, beats me. My son had obviously inherited my stamina. I just hoped he didn’t inherit the other part. My mental disorder.

Eventually, my growling stomach made me tiptoe to the kitchen in search of food. I’d smelled the delicious curry all the way into my room earlier, and I hoped there were some leftovers from whatever Catherine had made. Because I knew it was her. Jake didn’t even come ba