Happy Pasta Novels & Stories

Heather replied. Primrose nodded to another table. A group of women worked with rolling pins, spreading dough all over the table, until it was thin as a tablecloth. Then they cut it in long slim strips, that they cut over and over until they were the right size to make pasta. “Today’s lunch is pork ham with salad,” Heather said. “Pasta with meat balls and vegetables, and a dozen cakes with nuts and honey.” They noticed my baffled face and smiled. “They’re wolves, Joy. And you better believe they eat like hungry wolves.”

Without saying anything, he hooks a small stool closer using his foot before placing the bowl carefully on top of it alongside the glass of water. I frown harder, slowly lifting my gaze toward him. “Eat something,” he says. “We don’t know how much longer we’ll be waiting.” My confusion deepens. Because what alternate universe did I accidentally walk into tonight? “It’s your favorite,” he adds after a second, sliding one hand into the pocket of his jeans. “I heard the maids mentioning that Harriette asked them to prepare it for you.” For a moment, my brain completely stops working as I stare at the bowl is filled with shrimp pasta. Extra sauce. Exactly the way I like it.

Kate exclaimed, happily swallowing down the bite-size marshmallow. After Carlos chewed down the marshmallow, Kate laughed. He lowered his head, his face formed various frowns, utterly unpleased. “I don’t like this. 1 out of 5.” “Up next, we have tuna pasta with pickles!” Kate happily introduced, whereas Carlos took a deep breath. When Carlos tried it, Oliver zoomed in and focused on his face. The Devil was turning red and saying, “I don’t know what you are doing to me, my wife.”

“A little firelight for you.” “Lovely,” Sarah said. Barry looked at her and blushed. He nodded. “Your appetizers will be right up.” Laura and Sarah always ordered the same thing. Hummus and pita and edamame beans to start. Then they shared a plate of fettuccine Alfredo. They were both trying to lose a few pesky pounds, so they had started ordering healthier appetizers, but couldn’t yet let go of their favorite pasta dish. So they opted to share it instead.

The rich gooey sauce had melted its way into my mouth with the perfect softness of the pasta. “I was yearning for this pasta from the past few weeks. It’s just so perfect and tasty.” Elisa said, her mouth full of the contents. Her face twisted in utter happiness. I hummed. She was right. He was definitely the best chef amongst us. Finishing the plate quickly, I placed some more of the goodness on my plate ready to devour it. Mattia came back with several bags of chips and a bowl of butter and caramel popcorn. Plopping himself down, he poured the pasta in his plate and took a bite.

My eyes sparkled as it laid down on the plate of red sauce pasta . I discreetly took the crockery out . I savoured some saucy fusilli inside my mouth with the cutlery . I closed my eyes as I enjoyed the paradise of it's taste . His chief definitely know how to cook . I licked off the plate and dumped it into the wash basin . I opened the tab and cleaned it with water . I was humming a song when I felt two strong hands wrapped around my waist . I drop the dishes .

It feels so nice to watch her be happy and stress-free. “Hmm, these taste so good. I like it when you cook or bake, Miss Patricia.” “Thank you, sweetie; I’m glad you like them."” “So, Miss Patricia, what is your favorite food to eat and make?” “I really like pasta; it’s my favorite food to eat and make.” I answer “I like pasta too.” “We seem to have a lot in common.” I tease “Yes, that’s why I like you a lot.” “Aww. I like you too; you’re such an angel.” I say, and she blushes.

Charisse There was a longer pause before he replied, “Pasta. With tomato sauce.” I blinked, disbelief. Not bolognese, but tomato sauce? Did the richest man on earth just say that his favourite food is seventy cents pasta with fifty cents tomato sauce? “Weird, is it?” He chuckled quietly. “No!” I replied firmly, and my fierce support seemed to please him. “Special, not weird. It’s not the norm but who cares, right? I bet it’s delicious.”

Rich people were insane. A waiter arrived moments later with their meals. Lucy immediately froze after seeing the elegant dishes placed in front of her. She quietly leaned closer to Hart. "I don't know what any of this is." His eyes darkened with amusement. "It's pasta." "Rich people pasta looks suspicious." Hart looked dangerously close to smiling again. Lucy hated how relaxed she felt around him sometimes. That itself felt dangerous. As they ate, silence settled briefly between them. Not awkward. Just heavy.

Marco from IT had his hair down instead of pulled back, and he looked younger, almost shy, as he greeted them. Daniel had taken it upon himself to organize the seating, which meant everyone was squeezed close enough that elbows brushed and plates had to be passed carefully. Rivera liked that more than she expected. It forced conversation and made silence impossible. When the menus were handed out, Chloe immediately began reading aloud. “Why is this pasta described as ‘a journey’?” she asked. “I just want to eat it, not take it on a spiritual retreat.” Daniel laughed. “Order the journey. It will build character.”