She hurried forward, grabbed his jacket and took it into the vestibule. She hung it on the hooks with the other jackets and then used all of her willpower not to run to the kitchen.
She had to be cool, calm, and collected.
She had to concentrate.
She had to get this done.
Now.
Prentice was pressing buttons on the microwave when she arrived in the kitchen.
“Pren –” she started.
“Just a minute,” he cut her off. Turning, he walked with long strides to the stairs and up them.
Isabella stood in the kitchen, listening to the microwave whirring, staring blankly at the stairs.
She did this for awhile. She did it until Prentice walked back down at the exact same time the microwave dinged.
He went directly to the refrigerator.
“Pren –” she began again.
He interrupted her by asking the inside of the refrigerator, “I see the kids are asleep. Were they okay tonight?”
“Yes,” Isabella answered quickly. “Now –”
His head came out of the fridge and she saw he had the bowl of leftover custard in his hand.
“Sally?” he enquired.
“Fine,” Isabella replied and, because she knew he’d want to know, went on to explain, “She tires out easily but she had a nap this afternoon before we went to get Jason and I put her to bed earlier than normal. She was wiped out. Even so, it was like the accident never happened. She’s adjusting to the cast unbelievably well.”
Prentice nodded while he walked to the microwave.
She took a deep breath and launched in, “Prentice, we need to talk about –”
She stopped speaking when she saw him take what was the remainder of the sponge out of the microwave (and it was huge) and he poured the remainder of the custard over it (and there was a lot).
She gaped as the custard covered the piece of sponge.
Completely.
And she continued to gape as Prentice grabbed a spoon and commenced eating.
“That’s…” Isabella began in a strangled voice, her eyes on the mammoth portion in his bowl, she paused then continued, “Prentice, that’s enough to feed a professional wrestler.”
Or two. Or, probably, three.
“Aye,” he replied. “Missed dinner.”
Her gaze flew to his face. “You… missed dinner?”
His eyes on Isabella, he swallowed a mouthful.
Then he repeated, “Aye.”
That would not do.