Chapter 230: The First Time He Said No

The trouble started with breakfast.

"I can make it myself," the boy announced, dragging a chair toward the kitchen counter.

Eden glanced up from the stove. "Make what?"

"Eggs."

"Ambitious. Do you have a plan, or are we relying on divine intervention?"

The boy ignored him and climbed onto the chair. He had watched Eden cook enough times to believe the process was simple. Crack the eggs, stir them, put them in a pan. How difficult could it be?

Apparently, difficult enough.

His first egg landed in the bowl with a piece of shell. The second went more smoothly, but when he tried to flip the eggs, half of them ended up on the stove. He stared at the mess.

Eden took a step forward, then stopped himself. "Need help?"

"No."

"All right."

The boy scraped the eggs back into the pan with fierce determination. A few minutes later, he placed the finished result on the table. They were overcooked, uneven, and so salty that Eden suspected the ocean had somehow found its way onto the plate.

The boy watched him take a bite.

"Is it good?"

Eden chewed thoughtfully. "It’s a little too salty."

The boy’s expression fell.

"But you made it yourself, and you cleaned up your mess. Next time, use less salt and turn off the heat sooner."

"So it’s bad."

"It’s your first attempt."

"That doesn’t make it taste better."

"No," Eden admitted. "Unfortunately, food doesn’t care about our feelings."

Luna laughed from across the table.

The boy tried a bite himself and immediately reached for his glass of water. "It’s really bad."

"Now you’re learning."

"You’re supposed to say something nice!"

"I said you cleaned up your mess."

"About the eggs!"

Eden leaned back. "Would you prefer I lie?"

The boy hesitated before shaking his head.

"Good. We’ll try again another day."

The boy eventually surrendered and asked Luna for toast. Eden didn’t tease him about it. Trying something new was difficult enough without having an audience turn every mistake into entertainment.

Besides, Eden had recently discovered that he wasn’t particularly qualified to judge anyone’s cooking. His own breakfast had nearly set off the smoke alarm the previous morning.

That afternoon, Aria returned from an outing with an idea.

"There’s an exhibition at the community center tomorrow," she said, dropping her bag onto the sofa. "They have model airplanes and some old aircraft displays. I thought I could take him."

The boy, who had been reading on the floor, immediately looked up.

"Really?"

"Really."

He turned toward Eden. The movement was small, but Eden noticed it. The boy was waiting to see whether he would be allowed to go.

"You don’t need my permission to spend time with Aria," Eden told him.

"I know."

"Then what’s the problem?"

"I wanted to know if you were coming."

Aria’s expression softened. She had already planned to take him alone, giving Eden a quiet day at home, but she didn’t interrupt.

Eden sat forward. "I won’t be coming this time."

The boy’s excitement faded. "Why not?"

"Because your sister invited you, and you can have fun with her without me standing beside you."

"I don’t want you standing beside me."

"Excellent. We agree on something."

The boy didn’t laugh.

Eden sighed. "Look, you can want me there. I’m not going to be offended. But you should get to do things with other people, too. Spending time apart doesn’t mean anyone cares about you less."

The boy lowered his eyes to his book.

"Okay."

Eden knew he was disappointed. He also knew that changing his mind simply to make that disappointment disappear wouldn’t help either of them.

"You’ll tell me about it when you get home," he added.

The boy nodded, though his answer came quietly.

The next morning, Eden found a note on the kitchen table.

WE WENT TO SEE THE PLANES. DON’T EAT MY LAST COOKIE.

Below the message was a small drawing of an airplane.

Eden opened the cupboard. The cookie jar was empty.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "I’ve been robbed in my own home."

He considered calling Aria to ask how things were going, but decided against it. The boy was out enjoying himself, and Eden had promised not to make every moment apart into a reason for concern.

Instead, he bought breakfast from the bakery, sat in the park, and enjoyed the rare experience of having absolutely nothing to do.

It was surprisingly difficult.

He kept checking his phone out of habit. Each time, he found no messages requiring his attention. Eventually, he put the phone away and watched a dog attempt to steal a sandwich from its owner.

The dog was unsuccessful.

Eden found himself rooting for it anyway.

When he returned home, he repaired a loose button on his shirt. It took three attempts, one pricked finger, and a level of concentration usually reserved for surgery.

Still, the button stayed attached.

"I’m becoming a functional adult," he announced to the empty apartment.

Nobody applauded.

He was beginning to understand why people kept pets.

Aria and the boy returned shortly after lunch. The boy burst through the door, talking so quickly that Eden could barely understand him.

"They had an airplane with three wings, and Aria said it was an experiment, and there was a man who knew how to build them, and he explained why some designs didn’t work—"

"Breathe," Eden advised.

The boy inhaled and continued at a slightly slower pace.

Aria dropped onto the sofa. "He’s been talking about it since we left."

"Because it was interesting!"

"I didn’t say it wasn’t."

The boy opened a small paper bag and removed a wooden model airplane. It had three narrow wings and a tiny propeller.

"I bought this with my own money."

Eden examined it. "That’s a lot of wings."

"It’s supposed to have three."

"I see that."

"The man said some designs failed, but people still learned things from them."

Eden nodded. "That’s true."

The boy turned the model over in his hands, checking the wings. Then he looked up.

"I had fun."

"I’m glad."

"And I didn’t need you to come."

The words came out cautiously, as though he feared they might hurt Eden.

Eden smiled. "I’m glad you went."

The boy studied his face. "You’re not sad?"

"Not particularly. Although I did suffer a terrible cookie-related betrayal this morning."

The boy’s eyes widened. "You ate my cookies?"

"All of them."

"They were mine!"

Aria burst out laughing.

Eden pointed toward the kitchen. "Relax. I bought more."

The boy hurried to check, then returned with a cookie and offered it to Eden.

"Here."

Eden accepted it. "Thank you."

They spent the afternoon listening to the boy describe everything he’d seen. He corrected Aria twice, nearly knocked the model airplane off the table once, and insisted on explaining why one particular aircraft design was better than another.

Eden listened without interrupting.

He hadn’t spent the day waiting for something to go wrong. The boy hadn’t spent it worrying about whether Eden would be there. They had gone about their separate lives and returned home with stories to share.

It wasn’t a grand achievement, but it mattered.

That evening, the boy placed his new model beside the wooden airplane Eden had repaired for him.

"Can we go together next time?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Even though I went with Aria today?"

"Especially because you went with Aria today. Now you can show me everything I missed."

The boy smiled.

Later, as Luna settled beside Eden on the sofa, he glanced toward the shelf where the two airplanes stood.

"He’s growing up," he murmured.

"A little," Luna agreed.

"I’m not sure I approve."

"You don’t get to approve."

"I feel like I should have some say in the matter."

She kissed his cheek. "You can sew your own buttons now. That’s enough responsibility for one day."

Eden stared at her.

"That was unnecessarily cruel."

She smiled and rested her head against his shoulder.

From the bedroom came the sound of the boy turning pages in his book.

Tomorrow, Eden would probably burn breakfast again. The boy would ask another question, Aria would tease him, and Luna would inevitably find something to criticize about his cooking.

For once, none of that sounded like a problem.

It sounded like home.