Baking 101: Part VII

The content in this Chronicle and on this website is intended for adults, 18 years and older.

Baking 101: Part VII

An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle

            “I thought he was immune,” Zoe said as she stood by the bed where her husband was tossing and turning as he begged for death…and pizza.

            Jason nodded absently as he popped another chip in his mouth. “He is,” he said, gesturing with the chip to Trevor’s face and arms, “He hasn’t broken out in hives yet so I really wouldn’t worry.”

            She bit her lip at the reminder of the unfortunate reaction ninety percent of the people that mistakenly ate her baked goods had these days. It was embarrassing, especially since she’d married into a family that adored baked goods.

            “He’ll be fine. He just needs to sleep it off,” Jason promised.

            “That’s great,” she mumbled absently, honestly trying not to cry and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the pregnancy hormones coursing through her veins or the fact that she couldn’t do that the one thing that all Bradfords seemed to cherish in their wives.

            Bake.

            “He doesn’t care about that,” Jason said, picking up on where her thoughts had gone.

            “I know,” she said, because she knew that he loved her no matter what, but it still bothered her that she couldn’t do this one thing for him.

            She’d love to be able to surprise him with baked goods, treats late at night and his favorite casserole dishes without worry about whether or not she was going to kill him. After everything that he’d done for her, given her, she just wanted to be able to do something for him.

            The fact that he was able to do this for himself all along didn’t help matters. She still couldn’t understand why he’d hidden this from her, she thought miserably as her gaze shifted away from her husband and landed on one of the men that could probably give her answers.

              “Jason, can I ask you something?” she asked, wondering if she was going to have to resort to calling Haley or his mother to get him to talk. She really hoped not, because that would probably cause all sorts of unnecessary problems that would get in the way of her getting her answers.

            “Sure,” he said absently as shoved Trevor over onto his side so that he could sit down on the bed and enjoy his snack.

            “Why do Bradford men hide the fact that they can cook?”

To be continued…

© Rerum Industries, Inc. 2016. All Rights Reserved.