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Rachel's soft laugh wafted in from the kitchen, it was warm and low, definitely too observant for her own good. Moments later, she came through the beaded curtain, carrying a steaming casserole dish with oven mitts that looked like they had seen better days, and Adrien followed her, balancing a stack of mismatched bowls and spoons.
The mac and cheese looked golden and bubbling, its top crispy in uneven patches, promising a great crunch.
"Dinner's ready," she announced, setting the dish on a trivet in the middle of the coffee table since the kitchen table was apparently buried under bills and newspapers. "Nothing fancy, but it'll warm you guys right up."
Adrien handed me a bowl with a lingering smile that made me feel flush. "Extra crispy bits on top, just how you like it," he said quietly.
My heart swelled, he remembered just how I liked them from our little banishment to Clearwater Cabin.
