Forbidden Loyalties (Famiglia Series Book 1)

22

The text was from father. I stopped myself before I opened it. I won't have him ruin my day while he isn't even here. I decided to go downstairs and enjoy my breakfast with Evelyn before reading his message.

When I got to the kitchen, Evelyn was trying and failing to make breakfast. The entire kitchen was a hot mess with plates strewn everywhere, macaroni lined the floors and it was like a pound of cheese was thrown all over the counter, and there was burning bacon on the gas. She saw me and squealed and tried to block me from seeing the mess.

I simply crossed my hands over my chest and raised a brow, "What are you doing?"

"I'm making breakfast."

I hummed, "And how is it going?"

She sighed and rushed over to my side. "I was trying to help the way you help," she explained, "But it isn't going the way I planned."

"I'm sure it's not that bad."

She frowned and pointed to the pot of burnt macaroni and cheese, "It tastes like crap."

I picked up a fork and took a bite from it. I had to resist the urge to throw up immediately. Please tell me I am not tasting seasoning cubes and.... Is that sugar? I forced myself to chew the disgusting thing and swallowed it.

"It's not that bad." I said after I had caught my breath, "It's a pretty good try for your first time."

She knew I was lying but she didn't push it. She offered me a weak smile and started to clear up the kitchen while I took over from where she had stopped. I tried not to let her movement distract me and instead focused on doing what I needed.

She had used up all the macaroni so I had to decide on something else. I wanted to make cannoli but I was way too hungry to start it up from scratch so I decided to make a frittata instead. Evelyn watched with rapt attention as I made my way around the kitchen and she even helped a few times.

By the time I stuck the pan into the oven, the kitchen was almost as good as new. That is if you can ignore the fact that the counter is still sticky and there is still a tiny mess on some areas of the kitchen floor.

"I think I should just leave all the cooking to you," she said after a beat of silence, "You're so good at it."

"I could teach you someday if you like. It's not as hard as it looks."

She just shrugged so I decided not to push the subject. Not everyone is good at cooking unfortunately and it isn't for a lack of them trying. It is just that the kitchen doesn't seem to agree with them. And I don't exactly have a problem with cooking all the time, I actually enjoy it and anytime I don't feel like cooking, we can always order take in.

While we waited for the frittata to be ready, I took out my phone. I had forgotten about my father's message and unfortunately for me, it was the first thing that I saw when I turned it on.

He had sent a message asking if I was fully healed because he heard about the attack. I realized that now would be the perfect time to ask about it so I excused myself and called him. He didn't pick up but called me back almost immediately.

"You could have responded via text," were his first words and I let out a sigh.

"Good morning to you too father," he stayed quiet so I continued, "I know you hate me beating about the bush so I'm going to come out and ask if you know anything about the attack."

"How would I possibly know anything?"

"People are convinced that you had something to do with it."

He was quiet for a few seconds before asking, "What about you? What do you think?"