As it turned out, Karina knew her way around a kitchen.
It only took her about twenty minutes to throw together one of the best pasta dishes I’d ever had. It was simple— spinach and penne pasta with a white sauce. It had a touch that somehow made it better. Or I could have been the fact that I hadn’t eaten in over fourty eight hours.
Karina sat with me, pouring me a glass of white wine. “Oh, I don’t really—“
She sat the very expensive looking bottle back down on the table. “It pairs well with the dish. And besides, after the day you’ve had— I think you deserve a glass of wine.”
I smiled a bit. “You know how to cook well. I mean, for someone who doesn’t.. eat what I eat.”
She laughed, and the sound was so pleasant it made my hair stand up. “Our mother taught me a great deal about cook
