Chapter 173: A Real Meal

Chapter 173: Chapter 173: A Real Meal

The group split off gradually as they climbed toward the higher floors, Ben and Aunt Lucy peeling away first with a promise to return for dinner, and Killian pausing at his own door long enough to accept the small stack of supplies Penelope pressed into his hands.

"Your share," she said. "Ben insisted on the antiseptic again."

"He’s persistent," Killian said, though something warm sat beneath the dry observation.

"He cares about you." Penelope lingered a moment longer than strictly necessary, the same easy comfort that had settled between them over weeks of shared coffee and quiet conversation. "I’ll see you at dinner? Aunt Mary’s going to want the whole floor there tonight, given everything that happened today."

"I’ll be there," Killian said, and something in the simple certainty of it made Penelope smile before she turned to continue up toward her own floor, Persephone’s hand still loosely linked with hers.

The moment Killian’s door closed behind him, Persephone turned toward her cousin with an expression that could only be described as delighted.

"So," she said, drawing the word out, "boyfriend?"

Penelope’s face flushed instantly. "What? No. He’s just — we’re friends. He used to be my boss, actually, before all this."

"Uh-huh." Persephone’s grin widened, entirely unconvinced. "And does he give all his friends a look like that when they walk away?"

"I don’t know what look you’re talking about."

"The one where he watched you the entire time you were walking up the stairs." Persephone bumped her shoulder against Penelope’s, delighted by the deepening blush this produced. "Very romantic, very tragic, very ’I definitely haven’t noticed I’m in love with my former employee’ energy."

"Seffy."

"I’m just saying." Persephone laughed, unrepentant, as they reached the twenty-first floor’s reinforced gate. "You’ve got that look too, for the record. The denial’s not fooling anyone."

Penelope opened her mouth to argue further, then simply gave up, shaking her head with a small, helpless smile as she keyed the gate open instead.

The penthouse greeted them with warm lantern light and the smell of something actually cooking — a rarity worth savoring, given how carefully they’d been rationing — and Aunt Mary looked up from the stove the moment they stepped inside, her expression shifting from routine welcome into something far more overwhelmed the instant she registered who was standing beside Penelope.

"Persephone." Aunt Mary’s voice cracked slightly, one hand flying to her chest. "Oh, sweet girl, look at you."

"Aunt Mary." Persephone crossed the room quickly, and the two of them embraced with the easy, unguarded warmth of people who’d known each other since Persephone was small enough to be carried on a hip at family gatherings. "I can’t believe it’s really you."

"I can’t believe it’s really you," Aunt Mary said, pulling back to study her properly, brushing a strand of damp hair away from Persephone’s face with the same instinctive, maternal care she extended to everyone in this household. "You look thin. We’re fixing that immediately."

"I’ve missed you," Persephone said, something genuine and a little raw slipping through her usual easy composure. "I’ve missed all of you. I didn’t realize how much until just now."

Aunt Mary’s eyes glistened, and she pulled Persephone back into another tight hug before finally releasing her, gesturing toward the small, blanket-covered nest where Aurora lay babbling contentedly to herself.

"Seffy," Penelope said, crossing to lift Aurora gently into her arms, "I want you to meet someone."

Persephone’s expression softened instantly at the sight of the baby, all teasing forgotten. "Oh. Oh, who is this?"

"This is Aurora," Penelope said, settling the baby against her hip. "We found her a few weeks into everything. Her mother didn’t survive, but she kept her safe until the very end. We’ve been raising her together ever since."

Persephone reached out carefully, and Aurora’s small hand immediately curled around her offered finger, delighted by the new face. "She’s beautiful, Penny."

"She is," Penelope agreed, watching her cousin with quiet warmth. "She’s ours now. All of ours."

The rest of the afternoon passed in easy, overlapping conversation, Aunt Mary refusing to let Persephone lift a finger while she finished preparing dinner, insisting instead that she simply sit and talk, catch everyone up properly on weeks of separation neither side had fully processed yet.

By the time Ben and Aunt Lucy arrived for dinner, the penthouse had settled into something close to its old, easy rhythm — Kai attempting to entertain Aurora with increasingly elaborate faces, Erik quietly setting the table, Persephone recounting the story of the boat, the crossbow, and the man who’d learned the hard way not to touch things that weren’t his.

"You shot him?" Ben asked, delighted.

"Through the shoulder," Persephone confirmed, entirely unbothered. "Very restrained, considering."

Penelope watched the scene unfold with something warm and settled finally taking root in her chest — her family, whole and gathered, the particular chaos of too many people crammed into one kitchen feeling, for the first time in weeks, like exactly the right kind of chaos.

She glanced toward the door, thinking of Killian sitting alone in his own apartment, and the thought arrived before she’d fully decided to entertain it.

"I should invite Killian up," she said, mostly to herself, though Aunt Mary caught it instantly from across the kitchen.

"You should," Aunt Mary agreed, exchanging a quick, knowing glance with Aunt Lucy, both women’s expressions carrying identical, poorly concealed amusement.

"Go on, then," Aunt Lucy added, waving a hand toward the door. "The boy’s probably sitting down there eating cold rations by himself while we’ve got an entire pot of something actually warm going."

"It’s not—" Penelope started, though the protest died quickly under both women’s matching, unbothered expressions. "Fine. I’ll go ask him."

Persephone watched her go with open delight, waiting until the door had fully closed behind her cousin before turning toward Aunt Mary with a conspiratorial grin. "So it’s not just me who’s noticed, then."

"Sweetheart," Aunt Mary said, stirring the pot with a small, satisfied smile, "the whole floor’s noticed. We’re just waiting for the two of them to catch up."

Penelope returned a few minutes later with Killian in tow, still looking faintly bemused by the enthusiasm of the invitation, and the table filled quickly after that — nine of them crowded around a space meant for considerably fewer, plates passed hand to hand, conversation overlapping in a dozen directions at once.

It was, Penelope thought, watching Kai make Aurora shriek with laughter over some exaggerated face while Persephone recounted an old, embarrassing family story to Killian’s visible amusement, the fullest the penthouse had felt since everything began.

The warmth of it lasted through the entire meal, and it was only once the plates had been cleared and the evening had settled into something quieter that the question Penelope had been avoiding all day finally surfaced.

"Seffy," she said, catching her cousin’s hand again as everyone began drifting toward smaller conversations. "You’ll stay tonight? We have room." ℯℯ𝑙.

Persephone’s expression softened, something apologetic threading through her obvious affection. "I want to, Penny. I really do. But I need to be in my own apartment, at least for now. Dahlia and my dad are still trying to reach me, and if they arrive and I’m not there—"

"They’ll panic and think something went wrong," Penelope said, understanding immediately even as disappointment settled heavy in her chest. "Of course. I wasn’t thinking."

"It’s not like I’ll disappear," Persephone said quickly, squeezing her hand. "I’m just a few floors away. And the moment my family arrives, we’ll all be up here together anyway. Besides, I kind of like my neighbors. They are interesting."

Penelope nodded, some of the disappointment easing at the reasonable logic of it, though the ache of nearly losing her cousin again, even briefly, sat close enough to the surface that she couldn’t fully dismiss it.

"Then you come up for dinner," she said, firm. "Every night. No exceptions. I don’t care if you’re exhausted or busy or in the middle of something — you come up, and we eat together, and you go back down after. That’s the deal."

Persephone smiled, warm and genuine, squeezing her cousin’s hand one final time. "Every night. I promise."

Aunt Mary, overhearing from across the room, nodded approvingly. "Good. I’ll make sure there’s always a plate for you, sweet girl."

Persephone left a short while later, escorted partway down by Kai, who insisted on walking her at least to the stairwell despite her assurances that she was perfectly capable of managing three floors on her own. The penthouse settled into its familiar quiet in her absence, Aurora finally drifting toward sleep in Erik’s arms, the evening’s warmth lingering steady and unbroken despite the small, temporary distance now sitting between the cousins once again.

Penelope stood near the window for a long moment, watching the rain continue its steady fall beyond the glass, something settled and hopeful finally outweighing the exhaustion of the day.

Every night, she thought, holding onto the promise like something solid. That’s enough, for now.