Chapter 7

DAWN

After the quick but enjoyable hot shower, I put on the pyjamas and tread downstairs to the kitchen. I follow Kyle's cooking noises and the noise of him putting a pan over the fire. The moment I step into the kitchen, I see Kyle perched over an electric stove, stirring some sauce in a big pot.

Is he a great cook?

Have I randomly lucked into a husband that can cook dinners?

Even though I lied and made my intentions for helping him out in the kitchen known, I think I have left out some crucial information from the conversation.

The fact is I'm not a great cook.

I can barely cook anything more than heating eggs and making the random batch of instant noodles that I can find lying in the back of my cupboard.

"It smells good."

"Does it?" Kyle looks up from the simmering pot in front of him. "I just added some cilantro and thyme to the sauce. I settled on making shrimp pasta." Then he brings the sauce ladle to his lips. "Hmm. . .I think the sauce tastes good."

"The dish sounds like a nice idea, especially if you know what you're doing."

He smiles at me.

"Well, I got into cooking not long ago, and I took private classes from a Michelin-star chef." His eyes are burning with mischief, and I watch his smile evaporate into something else. Then I realise that he's smirking at me. "I happen to do things well, and the chef very much liked my cooking after I completed his culinary course. He said I turned into one of his best students because I learnt quickly and did well at everything."

"Wow, who was it?"

"The chef?"

"Yeah, I mean, was he a celebrity chef?"

He smiles convincingly at me with a mysterious glint in his eyes.

"Yep. The man has more than five million followers on his most followed social media account, and he happens to be one of those people you might call a Wunderkind. But then again, I'm not allowed to divulge his personal information because he doesn't make himself available for just about anyone." Kyle goes back to stirring the sauce. "He's highly regarded in his field and even lauded by his critics, and I kind of signed a confidentiality waiver when I started classes with him."

"That does sound ridiculously secretive. But I guess I understand." I smile again, letting him off the hook. "Hope you had fun at these classes."

"I sure did."

Then I clap my hands against my thighs loudly, showing my enthusiasm for working with him and helping him out in the kitchen.

"So, what do you want me to do for you? How do I help you with the dinner? Should I start boiling the water in a new pot for the pasta?"

"Yeah, can you grab that green pot over there?" I bring the pot back from the line of pots hanging from the dish rack and hand it over to him. "Can you also grab me that piece of china?"

I skip to the shelves again and grab the expensive-looking piece of china he's pointing at with his index finger. As soon as I reach his side, something happens, and I fumble with the grip of my fingers around the varnished, silky smooth surface of the plate, and the delicate plate slips from the hold of my index finger and thumb.

Instantly, I get on my knees to correct the situation and retrieve the plate, but I watch it break into a million little pieces as soon as it meets the marble flooring. Embarrassed at causing chaos, I move to collect the pieces of the plate with my bare hands without giving it much thought. Kyle walks to my side, putting a comforting arm on my shoulder while giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm so sorry about this mess." Shaking my head, I sniffle. "This is not what I had envisioned when I said I wanted to help you in the kitchen. I'm really sorry that I'm so clumsy and for breaking your expensive china."

"It's fine, Dawn." He waves me off. "It's just a piece of china. I can always buy things like a million times." He adds to his thoughts with a laugh. "Also, just as a safety measure, I'll put it on my grocery list to buy more china since you break things when you seem stressed out."

I bow my head down in apology since I can't bring myself to peer into his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I feel bad about it."

While I apologise persistently, he ignores me and stops me from picking up more pieces when I am almost still after picking out a jagged-edged of broken china and stabbing my index finger with its sharp edge while at it. He takes my hands in his to investigate if I'm hurt or bleeding while he concentrates on the little wound on the padding of the index finger. Then he pulls me up from the ground.

"You need to stop picking up these sharp pieces." He exhales loudly. "I'll pick them up." His sharp and intense gaze makes me stop and retreat to the kitchen door. "Don't worry about the dinner either. I'll take care of it since I'm a good cook. Also, I cannot have many distractions while I cook for other people."

I nod, my head hung in shame.

"Believe me. I get that."

"Why don't you clean the wound up and wait for me at the dining table?" Then he scratches his cheek with the back of his hand as he adds something to the pot. "The first aid kit is behind the mirror in the guest room's washroom. You can easily find it and look around if you don't find it there."

I nod my head again, feeling guilty.

"I'll make sure to do that."

Then he gives me an empathetic smile.

"You tried to help me, Dawn, and that's all that matters." He nods in my direction. "Okay?"

"All right." I give him another small smile. "Okay."