Chapter 169

Arsen. There were three things I never thought I’d be doing at 11 a.m. on a weekday: Whisking cinnamon into pancake batter. Arguing with a three-year-old over sock color. Letting Sofia take over my kitchen like she owned the place. (Okay, the last one was kind of hot. And, let’s be honest, she lowkey did own the place. Emotionally, spiritually, logistically—she’d rearranged my spice rack last week, and I didn’t even mind.) “You didn’t turn the heat down when you added the milk,” she murmured, not looking at me, but reaching around anyway to adjust the burner. Her fingers brushed my arm, her tone going strict, which only made it more attractive. “Scorched the bottom. Again.” “I meant to do that,” I lied, absolutely shameless, barely biting down a grin. She snorted, flicking me with a spoon. “You also meant to give Alexei and Jade mullets with your ‘barbering skills.’ Let’s stop pretending we know how to do things.” Okay, ouch. But also, accurate. Jade had genuinely threatened to draw on