HER BABY
Within minutes, the two of them were yelling at the screen, cheering when they blew apart a horde and groaning when Abi accidentally torched herself with her own Molotov.
By the time Iris rejoined them, the room echoed with the kind of chaotic joy she usually despised.
Later, when the four of them gathered for dinner, Jake set up a portable hot pot on the balcony. Steam wafted into the evening air, carrying with it the scent of broth and spices. Boxes of sushi and packs of Chinese food cluttered the table, but Jake’s fascination was fixed on the bubbling pot.
“The idea of cooking and eating straight from the fire - genius,” he said, leaning over the pot.