Ali has been hard at work this afternoon, and the kitchen shows the signs: smudges of flour can be found on almost every surface, racks bearing
cookies and
candies and
cupcakes are stacked as high as possible, the intermittent whirs and beeps of mixers and timers make a sort of music, and there's a distinctly yeasty smell in the air. Well, yeasty
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The sight of the kitchen is enough to make him pause. There is a chaos here he could not even have imagined. And more baking than he would have thought humanly possible.
But... "Ice cream and pickles, my love?" he asks.
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"Is there anything here that I may help with?"
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"And thank you for humoring me about the toffee."
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"That sounds like a good idea," he agrees, before giving her a kiss. "And you are quite welcome."
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Ali is in a much less huggy mood now. "You could have just told me you didn't like it," she huffs, retreating to a corner with her ice cream and pickles for comfort. "You didn't have to say you like it if you didn't."
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"I... I..." he stutters. She had thanked him for it! Why was agreeing wrong?
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Now she's just glaring at him and eating her ice cream like it was the only thing between her and yelling. And she's running out of ice cream.
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She turns a fond smile to Ali, setting a manila folder on a clear spot of counter while she adjusts her hold on Amaris. "What wonders have you concocted today, beloved? They called to me from my office, and I simply had to know."
Okay, so maybe Hans isn't quite saved.
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"I... I am sorry," he says, after a moment.
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"Hans lied to me! He said he liked the toffee I made and he doesn't. He's so mean!" A couple of tears trickle down her cheeks, but she's making an effort to hold them back right now. "Amaris, when you grow up and get married, don't marry a liar."
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Amaris burbles what might be assent, and tries to grab some pretty hair.
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"You are right," he says after a moment. "I should have been honest."
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What is the point? Um...
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She's pregnant. Why does she need a point?
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