Julia
Sipping the surprisingly excellent wine he’d poured for her, Julia studied the book still sitting closed on the table. It was labeled as an “adult coloring book”, which as far as she could tell just meant it was a bunch of weird shapes instead of pictures of cartoon characters.
It was silly, right? To sit there, in her fluffy dress, filling random geometric shapes with color while he cooked for them. She was supposed to be the one cooking, the one doing for him, not the other way around.
With a quiet sigh, she set her glass aside and flipped the book open. Okay, so the shapes weren’t entirely random. They were artfully arranged into more recognizable designs: flowers, butterflies, a variety of animals. She flipped through until she found an owl sitting on a branch. Delighted by the discovery, she picked up a random pencil from the pile beside the book and filled in a spot on the owl.
The green was pretty, but not quite bright enough. Still, it would be okay in moderation, maybe, so she filled in a few more carefully selected spots before switching colors.
She was more deliberate with her next selection, carefully examining the different shades before picking one that was somewhere between pink and purple. A strange sort of pride filled her as the picture came to life on the page. Dozens of different colors swirled and danced together, and for a while, her world narrowed to the stately owl perched on his branch.
“That’s beautiful, babygirl.”
Without looking up, she grinned and selected another pencil. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“Dinner’s ready. You can finish your picture after we eat.”
Already? Finally lifting her head, she glanced over at the plates he’d set on the table, piled high with chicken and vegetables. Despite her earlier protests, she’d been enjoying herself, and she wasn’t quite ready to leave her peaceful little bubble just yet.
“But I’m not done.”
“I know, babygirl. But there will be plenty of time for you to finish after dinner.”
“Not hungry.”
One of his eyebrows lifted in a look she knew all too well. It was a look that said she was skating on thin ice and if she didn’t listen, she’d be eating dinner on freshly spanked bottom. But even with her bottom still tender from her earlier punishments, she wasn’t ready to give in.
Ignoring the look, she picked up another pencil and began filling in another spot on the page.
“Julia Lynne. Is this how good girls behave when Daddy asks them to do something?”
The question, delivered in a tone that was somehow sweet and stern at the same time, struck a chord inside of her. Tears immediately filled her eyes, blurring the picture in front of her. “No, sir,” she whispered, setting the pencil aside and folding her hands in her lap.
“Good girl. I’m just going to take these into the living room and you can color some more after dinner.” A soft kiss brushed across the top of her hair. “Thank you for listening, babygirl.”
Though she was still disappointed at being forced to abandon her coloring, his praise filled her with a warmth no pictures in a book could ever duplicate.
When Owen returned empty-handed, he took the seat beside her, his own glass of wine beside his plate. At his nod, she picked up her knife and fork, tentatively slicing off a piece of chicken.
“How is it?” he asked after she’d taken a couple of bites.
“It’s good.” Not as good as she could have done, and certainly nowhere near Connor’s level of expertise, but it was at least edible.
There was laughter in his tone when he spoke again. “Go ahead. Critique me.”
“That would be rude.”
“Not if I’m asking. I want to know what you think, and what you would have done differently.”
“Well…” Giving herself another few moments to think, she cut off another bite of chicken and chewed carefully before speaking. “The chicken is a little dry, which is easy to do with a breast. Letting the chicken sit for a bit to warm up to room temperature before cooking can help with that. I also never really use boneless, skinless chicken. Leaving the skin on locks in so much more flavor.”
She forked up a few of the steamed vegetables and chewed thoughtfully, letting the flavor — or lack thereof, in this case — roll around in her mouth. “I would have roasted the chicken and the vegetables together. Roasting them gives them flavor where steaming is just sort of…blah.”
“Blah?”
If it hadn’t been for his quick, delighted laugh, she would have thought he was insulted. Grinning at him, she stabbed a pitiful looking carrot and held it up for him. “Blah.”
“Duly noted. I’m looking forward to you showing me some tips.”