❀ Amy ❀
"I need another tray," I muttered as I opened the cabinet and realized the one I wanted was missing.
"It’s in the dishwasher, babe," Clark called from the hallway. I yanked the dishwasher door open and there it was, sitting warm and clean inside, as if it had no idea I had been looking for it for the last ten minutes.
"Why would you put a clean tray in the dishwasher?" I asked as I pulled it out and slammed the door shut.
"Because you told me to keep the counters clear," he said, and then he appeared in the doorway with a broom in one hand and a smirk that was barely contained. I narrowed my eyes at him, but I didn’t have the energy to argue. Not today. Not when I had roast chicken to baste, lamb to check, and vegetables still sitting raw and judgmental on the counter.
"Where’
