Yvonne set the plate and cutlery in front of Kenneth. "I'm not sure what you like, so I just made something random. If you don't like it, don't take it to heart."
Kenneth sat opposite Yvonne. He wasn't picky, he just hadn't had home-cooked meals like this in a long time.
"Kenneth, eat. Why are you staring at me? Don't tell me you're like Simon, so distracted by my face you can't even eat," Yvonne said lightly, half teasing herself.
Kenneth picked up his knife and fork. "That's not what I meant."
The soup was rich and slightly sweet. It slid down into his stomach, and the faint ache there felt like it was wrapped in warmth, easing almost at once. Kenneth also tasted the other dishes Yvonne made, and they were all surprisingly good.
"You cook a lot?"
"Not really."
She had left the Ste
