Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 53

More people voiced their compliments across the table, and others were spouting off long-forgotten memories of recipes that their mothers made that they wished Miguel could recreate. Still, I didn't think Miguel could replicate a recipe based on someone's mind. If he could, I hoped he could make my father's baked ziti.

"Now, now, kids," Miguel grinned, quieting the table, "I wasn't alone! Alfie, Steve, and Margot were like my sous chef, station chef, and pastry chef. All honored arms in the kitchen."

"I've never seen you this amicable, Miguel," Logan said, laughing. "You are like the anti-Gordon Ramsey."

Alfie and Margot both gave a thumbs up across the table while Steve silently ate his pancakes and sausages, even though he was trying to hide his smile.

"Grandpa! You can cook?" Tessa asked incredulously that I caught Gabe's mouth hanging open, too.

Old Steve groaned, said, "I got to find a hobby after my retirement, bunny. I can't spend the past four years watching TV."

"Ew. Grandpa! Don't call me that. I'm not nine anymore," Tessa giggled.

I had bacon, of course, and took a bowl of fruits. Then, I had some waffles with butter and maple syrup on my plate. Next, I had chicken with paprika, wild rice with asparagus and carrots, and a steaming bowl of noodle soup with various vegetables, flank steaks, ginger, and mushrooms.

As my stomach filled, I had only eaten about a quarter of the food laid out on the table. I saw Margot's strawberry crepes, Steve's grilled and caramelized salmon steaks, and Alfie's mac'n cheese meat surprise, or so he called it. It had been a whole week since the outbreak had started, and it was the first time we'd ever had our bellies so full that all we could do was grin and thank everyone.

We made that morning our impromptu Thanksgiving feast.

There was a ding from the kitchen, and Margot went running off toward the oven. Margot then called everyone's attention, announcing, "I have made bread! Good for a long trek."

She laid down trays of two dozen brioche, pain aux raisins, and three loaves of whole wheat bread with walnuts and cranberries. We would then rationed these for the next few days as they could last longer. I had missed the taste of bread, and so did everyone around me.

For a brief moment, everyone had forgotten the troubles outside our windows, and I liked to imagine they had cherished this memory as I do now. With his talk of leaving once his leg healed, Armas was in good spirits with the others and probably thought it was a good thing he didn't go too early, else missed out on the feast. We tried to ignore the prospect that this would be the last home-cooked meal we would eat for the foreseeable future. Who knew how long we would eat one of these meals again? We were probably the luckiest survivors in the area.

We allowed Henry to eat as many sweets as he could. The little boy had seen so much death and chaos for a young age, losing his parents and his entire family, and this feast was the moment where he could be that kid again. Tessa was in a jovial mood, who had been bedridden for the past day due to her infected wound, but she still could not swallow much of the solid food. Though, she didn't complain about the hot stews and soup that Miguel specifically made for her.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?" Luke asked me.

I blushed and nodded.

"I saw you couldn't sleep, so I thought I should help you out."

"It seems to me like you needed it more than I did," I said, surprised that I could even muster such a thing.

Did everyone know what happened last night? Of course, Logan knew, but could everyone see it on my face? I had heard that people could tell by their faces if someone got lucky the previous night. By heard, I meant seeing it in various rom-com on TV and the movies. I looked around, but I surmised that no one knew except for the three men in that room. Luke did not know that Logan was awake that night. I didn't want to embarrass him, so I chose not to tell him.