A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies - Christina Lee Page 0,37

out and finish it in a pan.”

“Seriously?” Emerson was stunned as he walked toward the stove and peeked inside at the pan of chicken. It indeed looked marinated with something that Emerson couldn’t identify, which wasn’t at all surprising. “I’m impressed.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Audrey added. Way to rub it in.

Emerson raised an eyebrow. “You guys just didn’t want me to cook.”

“Maybe,” Sam said with usual bald-faced honesty, and Emerson couldn’t fault him for that. “But Rhys said you could use a break.”

Their eyes met across the space. “Thank you,” he mouthed, and Rhys’s smile lit up the whole damned room.

“Besides, you still have to make some rice and finish the recipe once the chicken is nearly cooked through. But I’m gonna help you.”

“You’ve been spending your day searching for recipes on Pinterest or something?” Emerson asked with a laugh. It had been one of his mom’s favorite sites to visit, and he’d admit he’d done a couple of searches of his own, usually getting overwhelmed and closing the tab.

“Please.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “Now get over here and play a round of Mortal Kombat with me. It’s been forever.”

Emerson almost begged off, but Rhys’s face was so earnest that he decided to take a load off and sit beside him on the couch. It felt good after a stressful afternoon of customer phone calls.

And he had to admit he actually had fun. He easily beat Rhys in the first round, most likely because his ribs couldn’t handle the constant jabbing at the buttons. So Rhys conceded the controller to Sam, and at one point there was nothing but laughter and pure, unadulterated joy in the room. Emerson felt the stinging of tears behind his eyes, no doubt because he’d turned into a total wuss. His mom used to cry at commercials, for God’s sake, and now he had the same affliction. He couldn’t help but get choked up over the smallest things.

Afterward, Rhys started boiling the rice on the stovetop, then sat at the kitchen island and walked Emerson through making a roux of butter, flour, and garlic for what was to become their pan-fried chicken. And damn, it was really quite simple, and he was embarrassed he didn’t even know the basics of pretty much anything. Maybe the Food Network needed to be in constant rotation in the evenings. Maybe he needed to have something of his own up his sleeve one night. Okay, he was getting a little ahead of himself. It was only one meal.

“That smells amazing,” Audrey exclaimed when she finally looked up from her phone. She was constantly texting friends, and Emerson had needed to set up bedtime rules where her phone was shut down for the night.

“I’m hungry,” Sam declared as Emerson plated the food and Audrey helped carry the bowl of rice to the center of the kitchen table.

“This is delicious,” Rhys said after a hearty bite.

“It was all you.” Emerson pointed his fork in Rhys’s direction. “We’ll just have to keep you.”

He inhaled sharply at his own words and hoped it went unnoticed by everyone in the room. But he could feel Audrey staring at him, and he didn’t want to look at her, lest he gave himself away. Rhys got quiet as well, and Emerson had no idea what he must be thinking.

Thankfully Sam seemed none the wiser and provided comic relief as he scooped a mountain of rice onto his plate. “What?” he asked as they all chuckled. He certainly wasn’t being too picky with his food tonight. Maybe he’d get the hang of this parenting after all.

Afterward they watched another episode of Stranger Things, and then Emerson got a pretty exhausted Rhys set up in bed. “Don’t overdo it, you goof.”

“If overdoing it is playing video games and bossing you around in the kitchen, then I’m all for it,” he replied around a yawn.

“Is that so?” He helped adjust the blankets over Rhys.

“Wanted you to set me up in the shower, but now I’m too tired. Help me tomorrow?”

They’d had a prior discussion about Rhys avoiding certain activities on his own, like taking a bath or shower. Rhys didn’t put up a fuss about the suggestion, maybe because he knew falling in a slippery tub was a real possibility. At least until his balance was more stable and his head less fuzzy. By next week he’d probably be good to go.

“Of course I’ll help you,” Emerson replied, pushing Rhys’s bangs from his forehead. It was such a nurturing