Eventually the cooking was done.
The kitchen looked like it had survived a small war.
There were bowls scattered everywhere, vegetable peels piled near the sink, seasoning containers left open across the counter and enough dirty utensils to keep somebody busy for an hour. Yet somehow the chaos only made the place feel warmer. The entire suite was filled with the smell of freshly cooked food. Steam rose from the rice sitting in a large pot while the chicken rested on a tray beside it, golden brown and covered in seasoning. The vegetables looked colorful and fresh and even Ann's pancakes had survived without being burned.
Liam was already standing beside the counter holding a plate.
Waiting.
Watching.
Looking suspiciously like a predator waiting for prey.
Lana noticed immediately.
"Don't even think about it."
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"I wasn't."
"You've been staring at that chicken for five minutes."
Liam looked down at his plate.
Then back at her.
"I am a growing boy."
