TimeBound (Time Tells #1) (COMPLETED)

Chapter Twenty Four

The rest of the evening is quiet.

On my husband's part. He sits by me as I work, speaking on his phone, setting up meetings...at one point he brings out a thin display, pulls forth the small table before the couch and sets up the display and a laser keyboard and begins his work right there.

I watch his fingers fly across the keyboard and my eyes widen. I was fast. And Kri was right there with me.

I grin, getting back to work. A long time after sitting in the same position, I stretch my feet out and my arms up in the air.

I had asked Hrei to stop having to travel every time during the night just to make me dinner because whatever she made for lunch was often plenty enough that I could just warm the leftovers for dinner and I didn't like food to go to waste—born to anal chefs and all that.

But today I had wiped the leftovers clean after returning from Kri's workplace, as if the mental energy it took for me to hold my emotions at bay was physically taxing. And now I was hungry again...

And my eyes go curiously to my husband, who now has a large blueprint of some codes and heaven knows what else into a holographic display in the air. He physically tweaked somethings, pushing it aside and rearranging them.

My head hurt just looking at it.

I twist my laptop to shift it into tablet mode. I pull up some quick recepies. I choose an easy step-by-step recipe of a salad pasta and walk to the kitchen.

I set the tablet against the wall and hear the almost silent sound of the suction cups that engage to the back of the tablet. I had seen Hrei do it this morning with her phone and frankly almost fainted.

I check the kitchen for all the ingredients and remind myself to thank and compliment Hrei on keeping the kitchen well-stocked. The video begins on my vocal command to do so and I follow the instructions to the T.

At one point, I almost fear I may set fire to the pan of olive oil because I hadn't set it to the right degree, before I realise the heat is self regulatory. I heave a sigh of relief.

Ten minutes later, after I've stirred the pasta, I allow it to cool, while I chop at the basil with practiced hands. If there was one damn thing I was allowed to do in the house it was the chopping. Sometimes.

I add mozzarella 'pearls' and the basil and stir. At this point, my husband has come from the living space to peek over my shoulder and see what has had me occupied for longer than I usually stay at the kitchen. I just grin at him as I add the vinegar and do a little taste test.

I'm so hungry that despite the suggestion to let the pasta sit in the sauce awhile, I can wait for about seven minutes—during which I clean up the space I had used. I turn around to grab a plate and look at my husband, holding up an extra plate and asking him without words if he'd like to join me.

He speaks into the comm that he had exchanged his phone for sometime in the evening, leaning against a counter adjacent to me, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles and arms crossed on his chest...but he has his gaze fixed on me. He nods.

I flash him a smile and set two plates beside each other on the breakfast counter. Shadows grab the pan before I can and swirl the contents neatly into a container I had set aside to empty it into. Then, the container flies smoothly onto the breakfast counter and I watch as the spot below the hot container darkens to insulate the heat and protect the counter.
Heh.

When I hear a clang behind me, I turn in time to see the shadows obediently having all the dishes I used washed, dried and replaced. At the same time, sibling tendrils lay out cutlery beside each of our plates.