A few seconds later, Amara watched as Finnian approached her with an apron draped over his arm. He slipped it on, a red and blue checkered number, and with wide eyes, she blurted out, "Finnian, what on earth are you doing?"
Finnian, with his tall stature and striking good looks, was already a sight to behold in his light gray loungewear. But an apron? That was a different story entirely.
For a man who seemed more like the dashing hero in a romance novel than a domestic sort, wearing an apron seemed strangely out of place.
"I need you to teach me how to make soup," Finnian said earnestly. "I want to make some for my granddad."
Finnian was known for his deep sense of family duty, but usually, he demonstrated it through grand gestures. This level of personal involvement in the small things was unusual for him, and Amara found it surprisingly endearing.
She couldn't refuse him. Imagining Mr. Kevin Everly sipping soup made by his grandson was too heartwarming. So she nodded, and they headed to the kitchen together.
"What soup are we making, Finnian?" Amara asked as they entered.
"Chicken and corn chowder," he replied. "The ingredients are already washed and prepped—just guide me through the steps."
"Sure thing."
Amara donned her own apron and took her place by the stove. "Can you light the stove? I'll get some water in the pot."
"Yeah, I can handle that."
Finnian gave a subtle nod to the housekeeper, who understood immediately and ushered the rest of the staff out, closing the kitchen door quietly behind them.


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