Chapter 14
Chapter 14: The Recipe
Emily loved to bake.
It was a passion she had buried deep down the moment she married into the Harper family. The one time she had attempted to bake cookies in the villa’s pristine kitchen, Margaret had walked in, looked at the flour dusted across the counter, and scoffed.
"We have a private chef for a reason, Emily. Peasant hobbies only make a mess."
Emily hadn't touched the oven since.
On a rainy Sunday, Daniel was sitting in the living room reading a book when a smell drifted through the air.
It was warm. Sweet. The undeniable, intoxicating aroma of cinnamon, butter, and vanilla.
He put his book down and followed the scent into the kitchen.
Emily was standing at the counter. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt, an apron tied loosely around her waist, and there was a streak of white flour across the bridge of her nose. The kitchen counter was an absolute disaster zone of mixing bowls, measuring cups, and spilled sugar.
She was pulling a tray of fresh, golden-brown cinnamon rolls out of the oven.
She looked up and saw Daniel standing in the doorway. For a brief second, she froze, instinctively grabbing a towel to start frantically wiping the flour off the counter.
"I'm sorry, I'll clean it up right now, I just wanted to—"
Daniel crossed the room in three large strides.
He took the towel out of her hand and tossed it onto the island.
"Don't you dare clean this up," he said, pulling her into his chest.
"But it's a mess," she mumbled into his shirt.
"It's a beautiful mess," Daniel smiled, looking at the chaotic, lived-in kitchen. "It smells like an actual home in here."
He picked up a warm, gooey cinnamon roll right off the baking sheet, not caring that it burned his fingers slightly, and took a massive bite. He closed his eyes and groaned in absolute delight.
"Emily," he said with his mouth half-full. "This is the best thing I have ever eaten."
Emily let out a bright, ringing laugh. The sound echoed off the high ceilings, filling the space that had once been so silent and cold.
She grabbed a spoon of vanilla icing and playfully dabbed it onto the tip of Daniel's nose.
May you like
He chased her around the kitchen island, both of them slipping slightly on the flour-dusted floor, laughing until their ribs ached.
The sterile kitchen was dead. The heart of the home was finally beating.
