Wherever You Go [Katy Perry Fan fiction]

Chapter Fifty-Four

“I love you, mommy,” his tired voice whispers, one side of his face lit up by the pale green lamp that sits on the wooden table beside his bed.

“I love you too, beautiful boy,” my fingers trail down the soft skin of his pale cheeks whilst he forces his eyes open to look at me. “Now go to sleep, baby. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

Luke’s tiny hands clasp onto the green and white animal print bedding that matched his walls, pulling it up towards his face for comfort. He watches me closely as I leave his bedside, after placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Just like I do each and every night before he sleeps. It’s good to take him to bed or to go into his room before he sleeps, because seeing him in his bed, safe, and knowing that you’re certain of where he is, is an extremely comforting feeling for me.

I turn around to look at him once more when I reach the door of his bedroom. He’s still looking at me, still, with his pair of green eyes that no person can describe. It makes me want to go and crawl under the sheets with him like I used to do when Sammie was just his age; hold him close to my chest so that I could just feel him breathing as he slept and know that he was safely asleep in my arms, where nothing could hurt him. Lucas has a face just like his sister’s. So precious and innocent looking that you just feel the need to have to keep them in your arms for as long as you possibly can, until eventually they grow up and you have to watch them drive away to college. You can’t hold them in your arms whenever you want to when they get to that age, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Sleep tight, baby,” I whisper as I leave the room. I close the door shut behind me. Only three quarters of the way though, leaving it open slightly so that the hallway light shone a little bit into Luke’s room and he didn’t get scared.

I creep quietly down the stairs, avoiding the areas that creaked when you stepped on them. After living in this house for five years now, I’m able to do that with great ease. I know the house like the back of my hand.

“Has he gone down okay?” Oliver asks me when I enter the kitchen. Just as we had spoken about earlier, Chinese food was cooking away on the stove. It sent a beautiful smell throughout the house that reminded me of walking through the streets of China back in 2015 when I was on tour.
“Yeah, he was fine. Poor thing was exhausted.” I respond, to which Ol looks over his shoulder at me and smiles cutely.
“Hey, you know that Chinese people don’t actually eat Chinese food?” He asks me at the same time as stirring the incredible smelling sauce in the pan in front of him.

I hop myself up onto the stool that sat beside the kitchen island. “They don’t?”

“No, surprisingly they don’t. The food we eat when we go to a Chinese restaurant or when we order out isn’t actually what they eat over there.” He shakes in some salt into the pan, continuing to stir with his wooden spoon. I admire his skills from my stool, resting my chin onto the soft palm of my hand and smiling to myself. He was still dressed in his black suit pants and shirt, with his tie now off and his top button undone, revealing the top of his incredibly toned chest. “Apparently, it’s mostly vegetables that they eat.”

“I could always smell typical Chinese food when I was in China.”

“Yeah,” Ol nods, “There’s a lot of restaurants that make it, but it’s mainly for tourists that visit there. In their homes though, ordinarily they don’t eat it.”

“Really?” I say, finding it quite interesting and at the same time feeling quite impressed at the knowledge he has.

“Honestly, true fact.”

Oliver turns down the heat on the hob. The food in the pan quickly changes to just lightly bubbling, and he takes out the wooden spoon to leave it to cook. Ol pulls a small tea spoon out from the drawer, dipping it into the pan so that it is then covered in the maroon colored liquid. The smell right now is currently indescribable, as a mixture of all kinds of spices fills the air.