Downstairs, two wealthy CEOs were busy in the kitchen. Both men had aprons tied around their waists, sleeves rolled up high.
yton was fussing over his little princess, worried she''d go to bed hungry, but also careful about her sensitive tummy.
So, he took matters into his own hands, kneading dough to make delicate, easy- to-digest homemade noodles as a midnight snack for his daughter.
Tarquin, eager to impress his father-inw-and score some points with his wife— handled everything else: washing, chopping, prepping. He''d transformed himself into a professional sous-chef for the evening.
yton nced over, impressed by Tarquin''s efficiency. "I always heard Mr. Bradford of Jindale City was sharp in the business world. Didn''t expect you to be sharp in the kitchen, too."
Tarquin grinned. "Learned from my dad when I was a kid. He always said knowing how to cook is a basic survival skill. Plus, it''s a big plus when you''re looking for a wife. So, I had to learn."
yton nodded approvingly. "Your dad''s got a point. There''s nothing shameful about a man cooking for his family. My old man used to say, ''A man who cooks for his loved ones is never a bad man.""
"If someone ever mocks you for making dinner for your wife and kids, you don''t need them in your life. They''re not real men."
Tarquin nodded, "Couldn''t agree more."
yton finished kneading the dough and plopped it onto the counter. He rolled it t with practiced ease, folded it, and sliced it into fine strips.
"Irene''s loved my chicken noodle soup since she was a toddler. The very first solid food she ever tried was my homemade noodles in broth."
"Even though work kept me busy, I made sure to cook for my girl twice a week. Every birthday-Pam''s, Irene''s-from her first to herst, I made her birthday noodles myself.”
"I''ve always thought, no matter how sessful a man is outside, real happiness is found at home. Don''t you think?"
Tarquin knew yton was hinting at him and quickly chimed in, "I agree, Dad. Don''t worry-Elysia and our kids will alwayse first for me. Elysia''s number one, kids number two."
"And from now on, I''ll follow your lead. I''ll always be there for Elysia and the kids on their birthdays. Birthday noodles, made by me."
yton chuckled, "I feel good handing Irene over to you."
Tarquin finished washing the veggies and stood by, watching as yton sliced the noodles, showering him with praise and peppering him with questions, eager to learn. He even solemnly dered he wanted to master the recipe for Elysia.
The two men chatted away, and yton couldn''t stop grinning at Tarquin''s ttery.
But was Tarquin really buttering up
it
s wife. If his father-in-t
was
happy, his wife would be happy, too.
Mr. Bradford understood this well.
Once the noodles were ready, Tarquin headed upstairs to fetch Elysia.
She''d just finished her shower and was blow-drying her hair. Tarquin strode over, took the hairdryer from
her, nted a kiss on her choot and
started drying her hair for her.
Elysia asked, "Is the midnight snack ready?"
"Yep. Dad made you homemade chicken noodle soup. He did everything himself
-kneaded the dough, cut the noodles."
"What did you do?"
"I yed sous-chef and kept himpany."
"What did you talk about?"
"About men cooking for their families."
Elysia was curious. "And what''s the verdict?"
Tarquin replied, "A man who cooks
for his loved ones is a good ma
One whoughs at that isn''
worth
hanging out with."
Elysia couldn''t help butugh. "So, does that mean you can''t hang out with Keaton anymore?"
"Wrong! Not only can I hang out with him, I have to-Keaton''s a killer cook."
"Really?" Elysia was surprised.
"Really. If it puts a smile on a girl''s face, Keaton''s a pro."
Elysia pursed her lips, "Guess I underestimated him."
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