“Garlic cream sauce. And before you ask, yes, I used the entire bulb.” Bridget stirred the sauce, then tasted it from the spoon. Her face did that thing it always did when she was adjusting flavors—brow furrowed, head tilted. She added a pinch of salt and stirred again.
Jo grabbed two plates from the cabinet. “Need help?”
“Can you drain the pasta in a minute? I’m trying not to break the sauce.”
“Sure.”
Pickles appeared from nowhere, winding between Jo’s legs and meowing plaintively at the stove.
“He knows,” Bridget said, grinning. “He always knows when it’s pasta night.”
“Because you always give him a taste.”
“A tiny taste.”
The water boiled hard. Bridget nodded, and Jo dumped the pasta into the colander in the sink, steam rising in a cloud. The smell of cooked rigatoni mixed with the garlic and cream.
Bridget tossed the drained pasta into the pan with the sauce, coating every piece. She plated it quickly, adding a sprinkle of parmesan and fresh cracked pepper.
They sat at the small kitchen table, Pickles hovering nearby like a tiny, furry vulture.
Jo twirled pasta onto her fork and took a bite. Creamy, garlicky, perfectly seasoned. “Wow.”
“Good?”
“Yeah it is.”
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, Pickles finally giving up and curling up on the chair between them, his head resting on the table’s edge like he was waiting for someone to crack.
“This is really good,” Jo said, because it was.
“Thanks.” Bridget’s smile was genuine. Unguarded. “I’ve been working on the sauce for weeks. Couldn’t get the balance right until today.”
Jo watched her sister across the table—flour still in her hair, relaxed, happy.
“Save me leftovers,” Jo said. “I’ll probably need them tomorrow.”
Bridget smirked. “Only if you admit my egg budget is justified.”
“Never.”
“Then no leftovers.”
“You’re the worst.”
“And yet, you love me.”
Jo shook her head, but she was smiling. Yeah. She did.
Pickles stretched, yawned, then hopped down to investigate Finn’s tank again. The fish swam lazy circles, completely unimpressed.
Outside, the evening settled in. Quiet. Peaceful.
For tonight, this was enough.
CHAPTER TEN
Wyatt was halfway through his morning coffee when his phone buzzed. Unknown number.