e's

What was I thinking, threatening him with an exposé? More importantly, why

n my pocket, a reminder that I

tchell," I muttered,

test mystery novel, and I'd nearly dropped it three times while

open. Bring your appet

my stomach growl traitorously. Before I could overthink it, I grabbed m

inimalist and monochrome, his exploded with color and life. C

walls were covered in what looked like children's artw

ng me jump. He was wearing a black apron over a f

a smudge of something red - tomato sauce? - on his fore

ofessional detachment but probably landing

at his kitchen island. "

just as my stomach betraye

twitched. "Sure you're

back in a neat bundle strode in, designer glasses glinting. "Zane, we nee

ghbor?"

," Zane

Zane's increasingly panicked head-shaking. "Though he failed to menti

d. "I haven't

ery politely," Zane agreed, s

ame but somehow knew. He'd taken the sofrito and turned it into what look

or with a grin that reminded me of Ruby's matchma

tarted, but he

r. "Sorry about him. Marcus has known me si

on slipped out befo

ctric crackled in the air between us, making it hard

ng the plate closer.

," I whispered, unable to help myself. It tasted like Sunday dinners and

like he understood exactly w

ly comfortable silence while I ate, Zane occasionally

testing recipes for Marcus's restaurant, and Tommy - you've met Tommy - he was sleeping in

lfway to my mouth

t Maria, who hadn't eaten in three days. And she

pointed out, but my

been failed by the 'legal' systems that were supposed to help them. So yes, I run an unauthorized supper club out of my apartment. Yes,

all this?" I asked, even

e your sense of safety, of home." He stepped closer, close enough that I could see flecks of g

ine instantly, steady and warm. "Just Tommy probably droppin

g was... I b

t ready to name. I stared at our joined hands, noticing how his larger on

tarted to pull away, but h

oftly. "Please. I

ointed out, but I didn't move. My hear

rinkle at the corners. "Consider it a bonus for saving me fro

in my mailbox. Yesterday it was the b

mething in the oven. "That sounds like Ruby. She ha

d, not sure how to ask

no. She's like the annoying little sister I never wanted. Bes

at his answer wa

the subject as I watched him pull what

ng rack. "My grandmother's recipe. She used to make it whenever

rds came out small

ht through all my carefully constructed walls. "Sometimes. Sometime

what you're doing here? Giv

has power, you know? It's memory and comfort and connection all wrapped up in one.

takeout containers piling up in my trash since moving in,

udding was still warm, sprinkled with cinnamon a

and sweet but not too sweet, with hints of spice and c

I struggled t

ggested, his

my moment," I muttered,

e – and the sound did something to my insi

u're much less intimidating when you're h

m threateningly. "I can

tle. "Because you understand now,

of community, of healing, of finding family in unexpected places. It was ever

tanding abruptly. "It's

pause. "Come to dinner tomorrow night. Not the supp

maintained my safe distance. Instea

hopeful. "I promise t

regretting it. "But this is

d me, but his eyes said

wall, I could hear him humming as he cleaned up – some o

getting m

e cursor blinking accusingly. But instead of my

melled like memories

op closed. I was i