Chapter 36
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Cookin’ up a little jealousy.
“I really appreciate this, Neptun.”
Neptun tosses me a brilliant smile as he unloads a menagerie of cooking utensils and ingredients onto Samson’s kitchen counters. “No problem. I’m excited. I mean, how could I turn down the opportunity to experiment on new recipes with a friend?”
I…was not aware we were friends.
Sure, okay, I collected the materials to help rebuild his and Laumon’s house seasons ago, and I waved amicably when I saw him on my way to complete my Learn Fishing quest with Laumon, and somehow my bumbling request for help today resulted in a total of two relationship hearts with the man, but like.
We barely know each other.
I do not know what cutscenes created heart events.
Once finished unpacking, Neptun plants his hands at his hips and grins at the chaos on the counters. “How long did you say we have before Samson comes back?”
“I’m not completely sure. He told me he had to go into the city today, and he suggested that he’d be gone most of the afternoon. He’ll be back before dark, but dark is still late-ish this early in Autumn and…yeah.” I bite my tongue before my nerves carry away every thought in my head.
Neptun does not need to know I’m worried about what could possibly have sent Samson to the city mere weeks after we went there ourselves and he told me, personally, how he’d not been back there for years.
If he got up the courage to hire a matchmaker, I will not be okay.
Ever again. Sharing these anxieties are certainly at least a five-heart friend thing, not a two-heart one.
Or a three-heart one, even, which I suspect is what Neptun and I will be at by the end of today.
These people in Gem Ridge throw their friendship hearts around like candy.
Because, get this, I have four with Austin.
Austin!
I don’t know what compelled me to check.
Maybe I just caught an accidental glimpse of his profile when I was gazing longingly at Samson’s eight beautiful hearts, like I do, routinely. To make sure I’ve not lost one accidentally at any point for any reason.
The point is: if I accidentally gain one more heart with Austin, he’ll be at risk of witnessing my panic breakdowns.
I’d feel bad for him, if my hearts for him weren’t negative one.
Wait. No.
He sold that stuff to Mimet for me, allowing me to become financially stable. That counts for something. Fine. I’ll give him half a heart.
I’m so generous.
And, blinking back to the moment where Neptun is holding out a whisk, I realize I have not been paying attention. As an internal scream builds, I take the proffered whisk and smile as though I know what he expects me to do with it.
Blessedly, I receive a context clue when he cracks a few eggs into a bowl and hands me that as well.
Awesome. Cool.
I can do this.
I can.
For Samson.
Three hours later, I suspect that Neptun has only wanted to call me an idiot sandwich fourteen times, which is statistically better than I expected. All the same, I will be checking that I haven’t gone into negative hearts with him tonight.
We’re finishing up our last recipe—a butternut squash risotto for dinner—when the front door opens.
My heart lurches as I whip around to meet Samson’s eyes.
Neptun snaps, “Keep stirring,” and I squeak as I focus my energy back down on the pan. Once my heart’s racing and I’m staring dead at cheesy rice, Neptun says, “Welcome back, Sammy.”
Tone ice cold, Samson says, “Nep. What’s going on?”
“Cooking class. Citrus was sweet enough to let me test some new recipes with her. She can start up a wood stove by herself now. Isn’t that grand?”
Samson’s footsteps draw near, each pound of his boots echoing in my chest as he ignores the question. “While…I wasn’t home?”
My heart lunges for my throat. “I-I’m sorry. I wanted dinner to be a surprise, but you’re right, I should have asked first. This is your home, and—”
“Our home,” he interjects, then, softer, “It’s our home, Lemonade. I’m not upset.”
“And you’re not stirring.” Neptun takes my hand and scoops the spoon around every part of the pan, turning the rice and sauce over with a dexterity I am not capable of. Nevertheless, I try. I try to be a good stirrer. For love.
Samson mumbles, “I don’t remember the two of you becoming friends.”
Oh my granite. I was thinking the same exact thing earlier. Samson and I are practically soulmates already.
Neptun frees my hand, leaving me to stir pitifully on my own without training wheels. “Aren’t we all friends here? It’s a small town.”
Samson grunts, then he stomps to our room.
My eyes flick toward Neptun’s, and I make sure I keep stirring.
The man glances down at the pan—presumably to make certain I keep stirring—then he scoots in, close, and whispers, “Don’t worry. He’s not upset with you. He’s jealous.”
“What?” I hiss back.
Sagely, Neptun nods. “Very, very jealous.”
My head shakes. “There’s no way.”
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“Absolutely.”
Neptun shrugs. “Okay then. If you’re positive.” His fingers wrap around mine again, directing my motions once more.
Quite apparently, I just can’t seem to keep the edges of the pan clean, and it is so hot in this kitchen. Early Autumn was not the time to learn how to cook over a wood-burning stove. I’m about two centimeters away from Florida Hardee’s kitchen flashbacks over here.
“Do you have to touch her to teach her?” Samson mutters, suddenly out of our room and behind me.
My wide eyes hit Neptun’s.
He winks, and lets me go. “I guess not.”
“Then why are you?”
“It’s easier?”
Samson physically takes Neptun by the shoulder and applies a foot of space between us. “Doing hard things builds character.” Imposing, Samson then looks over my shoulder, murmuring, “What are you making?”
Heart pitter-pattering, I say, “Risotto.”
As though it’s the most natural thing in the world, he settles his chin atop my head. “Smells good.” His exhale fans into my hair. “You know…I could have taught you how to cook.”
Unhelpfully, Neptun mouths so jealous from the corner of my eye.
Naturally, my face blisters red. “You had to go to the city.” For mysterious reasons. That resulted in a shrug when I asked what they were and a slow …no when I asked if I could come with you.
“And you had to learn while I was gone?”
I provide a slow, “…yes.”
His arms close around my shoulders and squeeze me tight before he leaves me with a kiss atop my head. “I’m going to check on the animals.” He jabs a finger at Neptun. “Don’t touch her.”
Neptun’s hands lift. “Yikes. Okay, okay. I suppose I’ll refrain. She’s just so cute, you know?”
Samson mumbles, “If he touches you again, stab him.”
I mumble, “I don’t have my sword.”
“You’re in a kitchen. With knives. Figure something out.” Samson whistles, calling both Yami and Tsuki out of their bedroom. Yawning, my dear sweet puppies wag their tails as Samson instructs them to protect mommy before he marches out the door.
The second the wooden slab closes behind him, a laugh bursts from Neptun’s chest.
“S-stop it,” I say, breaking my gaze from the pan to look at my puppy guards. They’re sitting beside me, tails still wagging, as they watch Neptun’s every move.
“In some places, they count ignorance as a gift.” Neptun wipes a fake tear from his eye. “How gifted do you have to be in order to miss how Samson is screaming I love you?”
Lungs tight when I try to inhale, I mutter, “I know Samson loves me. He’s told me.
But there’s a difference between love and love.
And, look at me, I’m adorable. The compulsion to protect me, or help me, is strong.
Case in point, I babbled to you for three minutes, and you caved.
I use my cuteness for evil on the regular.
And Samson is too kind to have any defenses against it.
Am I stupid? Sure. But could you say that directly next time?
I don’t know how to respond to anything that sounds remotely like a compliment. ”
Neptun swirls a finger at me. “These are the strangest self-esteem issues I have ever seen.”
My eyes roll. “Thanks. I grew them myself.”
“For the record, that’s how you respond to a compliment. Also, you can take the pan off the heat now.”
My muscles sag at the promise of relief from the stove. “Oh thank granite.”
“Hey,” Neptun murmurs once I’ve blessedly stepped away from the stove. “The proposal’s gonna go great. Try not to worry.”
Easy for him to say…
He doesn’t know Samson like I do.
He doesn’t check every night for the outline of a heart that doesn’t come.
Despite that, I force a smile. “Thanks. I hope so.”