As I dressed for the day, I could hear movement downstairs, the familiar sounds of the household coming to life. I made my way to the kitchen, where I found my mother and Luke already busy preparing breakfast.
"Good morning, Bella," Luke said, his face lighting up as he saw me. "I hope you don't mind, but your mother was kind enough to let me help with breakfast again."
I smiled, warmth spreading through me at the sight of him so at ease in our home. "Not at all. What are we having?"
My mother turned from the stove, a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye. "Mr. Montgomery here has been teaching me how to make French toast. Apparently, it was quite popular in Paris."
"Oh, you'll love it, Bella," Luke said enthusiastically. "It's a simple dish, but when done right, it's absolutely delightful
