Chapter 48
Noah
One year later
“Ah, Noah, honey, can you come here, please?” Philipp calls me from the kitchen, and I stumble over from the living room.
“What’s up?”
“I got a new cookbook. Want to try some?” Beaming, he points to four little bowls. He means well, of course, but Philipp actually knows by now that I’m not really into sweets.
Except for hot chocolate, which has become my biggest weakness. My husband devours all the sweets though.
“Try them all. Which one do you like best?” I don’t really get what this is all about, but I do Philipp the favor.
“I like the Mousse au Chocolat and the passion fruit sorbet, though the one with quince is good too. But I think Luca can judge that better than I can.” Philipp doesn’t seem to be listening to me, because he’s hurriedly scribbling something on a piece of paper.
Only then is Luca allowed to come over and have taste.
Adrien and Philipp exchange knowing grins, and I’m completely lost.
***
“Something’s up.”
“What do you mean?” Luca looks at me blankly and shoves another bite of cake into his mouth.
“Desserts last week, the veal trio over the weekend, and today the cake.”
“Now that you mention it, two weeks ago Papa brought home three soups and wanted me to try them. That was when you had the appointment with the architect.” My husband stopped working with our architect three months ago because he thinks the guy is an arrogant asshole who thinks he’s better than everyone else.
I can see how Luca got that idea, it’s not that he’s wrong, but the guy did a damn good job planning the children’s home, and I’m not ready to start from scratch with someone else.
That’s why I bite the bullet and nod politely, even though that man talks to me like I’m five.
“A full meal, then. Have you decided on a soup?” Now Luca gets it, too.
“Oh, you mean… fuck. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” I probably wouldn’t have either at that point.
“There was a soup that I thought was totally delicious. One with carrots and… um, with ginger.” I hate ginger. The only thing worse is actually… “Cilantro was in it, too.”
So, no appetizer for me. Fabulous.
***
“Okay, you were right, something’s not right here.” Luca and Jannis were at Louis’s place this afternoon playing Mario Kart, and Luca just got home.
“Why, what happened?”
“Lou had by far the worst playlist of the century playing and kept asking me the whole time what I thought of the songs.”
Luca’s taste in music isn’t exactly mainstream. If you gave him control over the music selection, we’d be listening to nothing but metalcore, much to Adrien’s delight and to Philipp’s and my dismay.
“What kind of music was playing?”
“Some kind of après-ski pop. I really don’t have anything against, I don’t know, pop or rock, but why après-ski pop?” Oh my God, I have a bad feeling about this. At Jannis and Dayyan’s wedding, Valérie was in charge of the music, and that was really good. Maybe I’ll send Val a message.
***
“Paps? What do we need forty wildflower bouquets for? With ribbons?” Luca’s voice echoes through the whole house, and I hear only a quiet “Fuck” from Philipp’s office. I like wildflowers, that’s reassuring, but I’m still very curious to hear the answer.
“These are table decorations for our school festival in three weeks. The booster club couldn’t cover the costs, so I donated them.
” That sounds plausible. I’m just about to get back to the email from Child Protective Services regarding the requirements for the children’s home when Luca adds, “Delivery is tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? A quiet “Shit!” from the next room, and I can’t help but grin.
“Oh, and the delivery address is here.”
A dull thud follows, which I assume is a head hitting a tabletop.
“Hold on, I’m coming. There must be a mistake.
I’ll sort this out.” Philipp floats down the stairs with unmistakable lightness, and I follow.
Not quite as light on my feet, but that’s practically impossible.
I’m still wearing the brace as I never had the surgery to stabilize my ligaments.
There were too many “maybes” and a long rehab period scared me off.
I don’t want to be so damn dependent again just for a maybe.
***
“Are we on the same page that there’s some kind of party here tomorrow with food, music, and flowers?” Luca is lying next to me in bed and grinning at me.
“Yes, definitely. I hope Valérie passed along the playlist from Jannis and Dayyan.” Luca looks at me questioningly. “This party is for us, and I can’t stand a whole day of après-ski pop music. Sorry.”