The dining room, though large enough to seat thirty if anyone dared, had been reduced to a much smaller affair tonight. Only the end of the table was lit, the rest left in moody twilight, and the baby monitor blinked quietly from its secure perch by Lucas's elbow. Sebastian had been settled in the bassinet in the adjacent lounge, full of milk and disdain for anything requiring effort.
Lucas sat with one leg tucked under him, a glass of cold water sweating beside his plate, and regarded the dish in front of him with a kind of wary resignation.
Trevor took the first bite.
Then paused.
"…It's edible," he said slowly, like that fact surprised him more than anything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Lucas blinked. "Are you sure?"
"I'm not saying it's good," Trevor clarified. "But it has structural integrity. It tastes like…"
