"Ambitious," she says with a playful but approving lilt. Some of the approval might also be in response to how much wine he's poured her. 'Rather large,' indeed. "It does smell divine, though. Seems as if you've got everything under control."
She lifts her glass in a toast, then takes a sip. A little tension ebbs away, and though she knows it's all in her head -- too immediate to blame the alcohol -- she welcomes it nevertheless.
Now that she's cleared that first hurdle of telling him what happened, it's easier to recall the positives. Whether she was victorious or not, taking part in the final would have been enormously stressful, and she's grateful to have at least escaped that. And while shouldering the preparation of two or three dinners per week is hardly a burden, and a challenge he's taken on with all the grace and good humor a baronet might summon, she's still glad they can shift back into their normal routine.
Provided he wants to, of course. She's not about to cajole him out of that hilarious apron. But still. "It'll be nice, being able to do weekend dinners together again," she admits, smile softening. "I've rather missed being in the kitchen with you." Not that she's been deprived, exactly. But the demands of the contest usually meant that she used the kitchen for perfecting recipes while Thomas kept both Saoirse and himself out of the way. And then, when it came to actual meals, he gently shooed her out so she could have a break. The system worked, but it was less fun than puttering around together.
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She lifts her glass in a toast, then takes a sip. A little tension ebbs away, and though she knows it's all in her head -- too immediate to blame the alcohol -- she welcomes it nevertheless.
Now that she's cleared that first hurdle of telling him what happened, it's easier to recall the positives. Whether she was victorious or not, taking part in the final would have been enormously stressful, and she's grateful to have at least escaped that. And while shouldering the preparation of two or three dinners per week is hardly a burden, and a challenge he's taken on with all the grace and good humor a baronet might summon, she's still glad they can shift back into their normal routine.
Provided he wants to, of course. She's not about to cajole him out of that hilarious apron. But still. "It'll be nice, being able to do weekend dinners together again," she admits, smile softening. "I've rather missed being in the kitchen with you." Not that she's been deprived, exactly. But the demands of the contest usually meant that she used the kitchen for perfecting recipes while Thomas kept both Saoirse and himself out of the way. And then, when it came to actual meals, he gently shooed her out so she could have a break. The system worked, but it was less fun than puttering around together.