Chapter 6: Mixed Feelings

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[Revised]

Zara dressed up and was soon in the kitchen, combing her hair with a brush she had found in a cabinet. This really was the only time she could ever do so. It was a living hell attempting to do it while it was dry.

The smell of bacon filled her nostrils, and she practically floated to her seat behind the breakfast bar.

"So?" Saffron asked, without turning. The bacon was starting to buckle and curl in the pan. He pulled out a pair of tongs from one of the drawers and used it to turn each strip so that they could cook on the other side.

"So...what?" Zara stared at the back of his head confusedly, wincing when the comb caught a knot in her hair.

"Do they fit?" Saffron asked again, unashamedly. He walked over to one of the glass cupboards and pulled out two plates and cups, setting them down in front of Zara and rearranging them. He checked on the bacon, then trudged over to the fridge to pull out a carton of eggs.

"Yes, actually," Zara said, picking up the cup. "Where are your parents?" She looked around, expecting them to be the one cooking breakfast. They were both chefs and owned a restaurant not far from where they lived.

Their love for food prompted them to call their son Saffron while their two daughters were named Amarissa and Amandine. This not only explained Saffron's knack for cooking, but also the size of the kitchen, considered the most important part of the house.

"They've been under pressure a lot lately, so they decided to take the weekend off and leave Jeremy in charge of the restaurant. They left early this morning for Coney Island."

She nodded, watching Saffron intently as he broke the egg on the edge of another pan. She admired his parents—they had been married for twenty-five years, known each other since high school, and loved each other just as much as the first time they had laid eyes on one other.

It was truly something out of a fairytale. "How do you like your eggs? Sunny side up?"

"Yeah." she jumped off the stool she was sitting on and padded over to the refrigerator. "And who's taking care of your sisters, since, you know—"

"I am."

"You are?" Zara spun on her heel with a bottle of orange juice to look at him incredulously.

"Don't look so surprised. I gave each of them twenty dollars so I could be free from them the whole weekend. I'm basically broke now," he feigned annoyance and then smiled again, serving the food onto the plates.

Who knew? Those two girls had more to them than Zara thought.

She sat across from him and poured orange juice in both of their cups, immediately wolfing down on the food. The last time she had eaten was lunch the day before, so she was practically starving.

"Do you want a piece of cake?" Saffron asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. He stood to retrieve it.

"Yes please," Zara said around a mouthful of egg. When he placed the cake on the table, she immediately helping herself to a hefty slice. It was chocolate, her favourite.

The two munched in silence for a while, mulling over their own thoughts.

"Hey," Saffron spoke up, wiping his plate with a piece of bread. He stuck it in his mouth and looked at her.

Zara ignored him, helping herself to her third slice of cake.

"Wassup?" Zara didn't give herself a break between one piece of cake and the other; the moment one slice was gone, another took its place. She knew she would regret it later, when her acne flared, but she would cross that bridge when she reached it. It wasn't often she got to eat homemade confectionary. "Actually, I've been wanting to ask you something, that's been bothering me since last night," Zara said quickly, a finger in the air.

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