Dinner was already waiting—roasted chicken, vegetables, warm bread. Nothing fancy. The smell filled the apartment like a promise.
Caroline's mother took a bite and hummed.
“This is good."
Thorne smiled, pouring her wine.
“I'm glad you liked it."
“He's amazing at cooking," Caroline chimed in.
Her mother's eyes narrowed with a smile.
“That's good, because Caroline can hardly cook and follow recipes."
“That's not true," Caroline pouted. “I helped him, okay? I improved a lot."
Her mother leaned her elbows on the table.
“I am so glad to hear it. My girl is determined, I'll give her that. When she was seven, she decided she would learn piano. Not because she liked it. Because the neighbor girl said it was hard."
Caroline groaned. “Mom, no."
Thorne's expression shifted—real intere
