Charlotte Sanguinite POV:
Robert freezes.
When he doesn’t say anything or move, I roll my eyes. “I can still see you, Robert.”
His shoulders droop. My own shake with laughter.
My gait is slow as I head toward him, and he immediately tries to get rid of the egg in the pan.
“Hold it!” I grabbed the pan from him. “Let me see.”
“It’s not edible,” he says, glaring at me.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
He doesn’t put up much of a fight, which is why I’m able to seize the pan from him. The contents have me gawking, though. What was supposed to be a fried egg is swimming in oil. It is still raw on top, and the bottom is black.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip to stop myself from laughing. When I look up at Robert, he looks fifty shades mortified.
“I told you it was inedible,” he mutters,
