15. Florence

Chapter fifteen

Florence

Sir Purrington keeps up with me as I head directly for the kitchen. There's a definite bounce to my step as I hum a happy tune, excited about having a cuddly companion in the quiet house.

Adelbert follows a couple of paces behind us—his steps not as jaunty as mine. I place my embroidery basket on the kitchen table just as he enters the kitchen and comes to a stop by the central counter.

His usual scowl is currently competing for the title of fiercest yet. His brows draw deep over his light eyes as he runs first one hand and then the other through his hair, slicking back the soft-looking strands in a particularly attractive manner I should not be thinking too much about.

But try as I might, I can't help lusting after my temporary roommate.

"Is it okay if I give Sir Purrington some food?" I ask Adelbert as Sir Purrington rubs against my legs, moving in a figure eight between my feet for maximum effect.

"I'd prefer it if you don't. It lives in the library and should be chasing mice for meals. Not become some pampered prince living off human food."

"But he came all this way." I pout. "It's okay if you don't want to give him any special food. I can just feed him bits and pieces of what I was going to eat."

"I will not allow you to take your own food and give it to a cat," Adelbert says sternly, fingers flexing next to his hips.

Finding the backbone I so often seem to lack, I place both hands on my hips and fix Adelbert with a look. "Excuse me?"

He takes a breath and sighs it out loudly. "That came out wrong."

"I hope so." Externally, I am giving such strong Sadie vibes that he must be convinced of my confidence. Internally, however, I am cringing and flinching at using that tone and I really hope he can't read that emotion.

"Let me attempt this again. How about you have your meal, and I'll prepare something separate for the cat?" Adelbert asks me and then addresses Sir Purrington directly, "Then you can go back to Alberad library and do your duty. Good?"

Sir Purrington lets out a displeased-sounding meow, clearly stating his opposition to that idea.

My lips threaten to turn up into a smile. "Do you think perhaps the cat doesn't have the exact same level of obligation you feel to the school?" I hedge.

"I do not think many people do," he says so softly I don't think I was meant to hear it.

Adelbert catches my eyes briefly, and I can almost swear I see a bit of sadness lining his. But just as quickly, he covers it again with a familiar guise of indifference.

I can't help but wonder how complicated his life must be. He seems so dedicated to making choices that benefit everyone else that he might be neglecting his own desires. I'm curious if Alberad is even where he wants to work, but I know this level of questioning will not be welcomed. Not now, possibly not ever.

So many people are currently counting on Adelbert, and he doesn't need to be distracted by me. After seeing him so comfortable in the kitchen last night, I vowed to myself that I will try not to add to his burdens. And if it means staying out of his way, then I'll do just that.

"Do you maybe have a can of tuna?" I ask Adelbert in an attempt to bring the conversation back to neutral ground.

"In the pantry. I will get it. You wait with the cat."

I sit down at the table and Sir Purrington jumps into my lap. I lavish him with affection while Adelbert begrudgingly prepares his meal.

Adelbert places a dish on the floor with a saucer of water and Sir Purrington jumps down and immediately starts eating.

I lean forward to let my hair curtain around my face to hide my smile. He just looked so cute and domesticated.

Adelbert, not the cat.

"When you are done with your amusement, would you like some K?nigsberger Klopse? With Salzkartoffeln ?"

I peek out from behind my hair and stare blankly at the handsome elf.

"Come again?"

"German meatballs and salted potatoes?"

I nod and bite back my grin.

"That would be lovely."

This time, I don't offer to help, knowing he's in his happy place—though I know not to mention it out loud.

Adelbert has been so focused on making sure that I am eating after our little misunderstanding yesterday, and he was super sweet by preparing my embroidery supplies and breakfast. I wish there was something more I could do to help him.

After he told me that he prefers I give him space so he won't be disturbed by my emotions, I decided to spend the day outside. It's where I enjoy being the most, anyway. But maybe, just maybe, if we can have more meals together like this, I can make it my personal mission to get him to relax—perhaps even smile—and he can just be himself and not worry about everything else that is weighing on him.

This morning, I took all my supplies and went to sit close to the boundary Adelbert marked, right under the pretty ribbon he tied to a tree. Even though it's summer here, there's definitely a little nip in the air that I felt on my bare arms, but I wanted to be as far away from the house as possible.

My spot had the most beautiful view of the valley. Hills rise and fall for miles and miles with a symphony of different shades of dark green dappling their slopes as far as the eye can see.

I must have lost track of time as I outlined the valley with a forest-green thread, getting lost in the motion and comforting sound of needle and thread passing through the stretched material of the hoop. The whoosh and pop of my stitches helped get my mind in that blissful state of blankness, free from the worries and stress of the past few days, as my focus was solely on recreating the scene in front of me.

When he came charging across the clearing, I was honestly happy to see him. But getting scolded for not realizing how long I had been in the sun really popped that bubble of joy.

I don't blame him, though.

I sometimes think Adelbert has good intentions but his delivery definitely needs some work.

The sizzles from the stove and the swooshes and thunks of Adelbert's knife on the wooden cutting board hypnotize me as I witness the meal come together. He adds a bunch of ingredients to the skillet and the delicious aroma wafts over to me, making my stomach rumble in anticipation.

Adelbert grabs two plates and dishes a couple of meatballs onto each, dribbling the gravy he cooked them in on top. He adds the potatoes next, and I have to swallow the excess saliva down before I drool on the table. Keeping his head bowed as he deftly adds some garnish— garnish —he flicks his gaze up and looks at me.

"Any allergies besides your strong dislike for peanut butter?"

"Nope. All good. Want me to tell you a secret?" I ask, hoping that maybe I can bring us back to that sense of camaraderie we had last night.

"Sure," Adelbert answers hesitantly.

"I hate peanut butter so much that I sometimes tell people I have an allergy just so they take it seriously."

Adelbert's brows furrow. He looks like he can't decide if he should be impressed or disappointed in me.

"That's… that's… not very nice, Ms. Everly. But also incredibly clever."

"Was that just a backhanded compliment you gave me, Mr. Alberad?"

"I believe it was."

A huff escapes from him and one might almost call it a laugh.

I call it a win.

Adelbert brings our late lunch over and carefully places mine in front of me. I hold my hands completely still on my lap so he knows I won't make any sudden movements that could cause accidental contact.

An unexpected, and not at all unwelcome, feeling of giddiness bubbles in my chest as he takes the seat opposite me, and a blush blooms across my cheeks.

For someone who doesn't want me in his space, Adelbert's being very accommodating and kind, even if he won't blatantly admit it.

I pinch my leg to ground myself, a reminder that this is not a date—just two people sitting down to eat a home-cooked meal. But it's been so long since I've been on a real date that maybe I've forgotten what they're actually like.

"Want to know my secret?" Adelbert asks, and I can't help but sit up straight in my chair, eager for another glimpse of the male behind the frown.

"Hit me," I say and place my elbows on the table, my chin cradled in between my hands.

"I tell people I am allergic to strawberries."

"Are you?"

"Not even a little. I just don't like the idea of the seeds being on the outside. It's like an inside-out fruit." Adelbert's mouth turns down in disgust and a shudder runs down his body.

I burst out laughing, doubling over in my seat and clutching my stomach. When I look up, Adelbert's eyes sparkle with a joy I have not witnessed in him before and a warm, fuzzy sensation takes root deep inside me.