Allen Lopez's Love For His Family

Over time, and through hundreds of notes, Allen's left handwriting considerably improved. But it was nothing compared to the growth of his secretary.

Was Allen proud of him? Yes.

Did he say it to him? No.

Allen was not good with words. There were the notes for that. Although, he does not need to search the internet for words of encouragement as he could think of them on his own.

A knock on his door made him scramble to hide the notes. He swept them from his table into his cabinet, just in time for an attractive secretary Andrew to enter. He now wore a well-fitted suit that complimented his brown skin tone and small build. No more of those disastrous suits that drowned him in miles of cloth. Those trips to the boutique finally paid off.

"Sir Allen?"

"Ah, yes. What is it?"

Secretary Andrew approached him with a proud smile and handed him a tablet. There were graduation photos from an executive management program of a renowned HR firm.

"Luiz finished top of his batch. Congratulations, you must be proud of him. I'm sure this is also a relief for him. Mr. Lopez has been pressuring him to do well."

Allen gazed at the photo of his younger brother. Luiz wore a bright smile, raising his medal in the air, enveloped in the arms of his friends. Behind them were the passing faces of other parents. But Allen couldn't find theirs, even after finishing the gallery. Typical.

"They couldn't come," Secretary Andrew explained. "It coincided with the investor's presentation."

Allen could only grunt in response.

"But don't worry. I already invited him to a dinner for you."

Allen raised an eyebrow at his meddlesome secretary who wasn't supposed to know that.

"You were mumbling it. So, I just put in my to-do list."

Allen chose to let it go on the account of his so-called 'mumbling'. He was proud of his brother and he wanted to celebrate his graduation with him. Even in the absence of their parents. Though Allen was relieved that Luiz had been with his friends.

"What restaurant did you call? I recall he likes Jamaican."

"He likes Japanese, Sir," Secretary Andrew drawled. Sometimes Allen would sense a hint of sarcasm in his secretary, but Allen could never catch it. Allen waved his hand for Secratary Andrew to continue.

"I was planning on booking a reservation for that restaurant with the excellent sushi bar, do you remember? But...I was thinking, what do you think of cooking him a meal?"

"A meal?"

"Yes...a home-cooked meal." Secretary Andrew flashed a cautious smile.

There it is again, that sarcasm, that smile that hinted he thought of Allen as one with lack of intelligence for this moment. Allen was sure of it.

"You've mentioned that you've always had a chef at home, so you've never really had a meal cooked by a family member. Why not use this chance to do so? It would be different, more special, than just dining out. Wouldn't you say?"

Allen nodded, then asked, "Care to join us?"

"No," came his swift reply.

Ah. There was a deep pang inside his chest. Allen wondered what that feeling was.

"But...I could teach you how to cook," he said with a smile. There was also a certain glint to his eyes. "Think of it as payment for the suits you bought me."

Later that night, he just thought of what his brother would like, and his hands grabbed what ingredients he could think of inside the market. Which was probably a terrible idea, seeing that his new kitchen counter was a field of uncooked food.

When his secretary arrived at his new house, he had expected to be thrown the 'You're stupid, but you are my boss' look. Instead, the young man roared with laughter as he found the act sweet and hilarious. Much like Secretary Andrew's laughter. Sweet.

Huh?

"Sir Allen," Secretary Andrew handed Allen an apron and gathered a variety of ingredients. "Why don't we start with an omelet?

"Yes, I agree," Allen paused. "So, eggs?"

"Let me show you the wonders of delicious food."

And did secretary show him indeed. His secretary demonstrated basic knife skills, how each seasoning worked, compatibility of food, and different methods of cooking an egg. How was Allen supposed to know that he was not supposed to put that much oil? He's amazed by how the combination of different ingredients creates one amazing flavor. There was a science behind cooking, but there was also art in it. Secretary Andrew let him experiment in the kitchen as he sat watching behind the kitchen counter.

"So, what are you going to talk about with your brother?" he asked. "Assuming that you two are going to talk."

Allen thought about it while he seasoned. "I should praise him. And that I'm expecting him to do a good job."

After a beat, there was no response. He glanced past his shoulder at a pondering secretary Andrew

"What is it, Secretary Andrew? Speak your mind. I do value your advice."

"Don't you think that your expectations and good-willed praises would burden him the most?" Secretary Andrew asked . "Don't you remember how burdened and crippled you were when your father prematurely praised you that you would achieve the quarter quota in just a month because you were smart?"

Allen did remember. The sleepless nights, the countless coffees, all the hours spent with Secretary Andrew. Allen did not want Luiz to suffer from the pressures like he did.

"You're right, Secretary Andrew. Let me think it over and I'll course it through you."

"Alright, I'll be here."

He mulled topic discussions over his head as he kept on trying new flavors and new dishes. Time passed and he hadn't realized that it was already past midnight. He went to the living room and found his secretary sleeping in the sofa. Allen crouched down and unabashedly ogled his secretary's sleeping expression. His brows were furrowed. Maybe he found the sofa uncomfortable. With that in mind, he picked up Secretary Andrew into his arms, careful not to disrupt his sleep.

He headed for the master bedroom. He laid Secretary Andrew unto the bed with great care. Loosened the necktie around his neck. Slipped off his sports shoes—the pair secretary Andrew wears for his commute—and turned on the air conditioner.

Just before he left the room, there was one observation that swept all his thoughts aside. Secretary Andrew's body lean, muscular, yet soft at the same time.

When morning came, Secretary Andrew rushed from the bedroom to the kitchen, apologizing. Allen, who had just prepared breakfast, instructed him to stop apologizing and eat. He was nervous, to say the least, maybe it was the lack of sleep or the fact that this was his first dish for another person.

Secretary Andrew sat down and eyed the steaming omelet, garnished with herbs and vegetables. He took one bite and exclaimed, astonished, "This is good."

He took another bite. "Wow, Sir Allen. This is really, really, really, good. I mean it."

Allen let out a breath of relief he had not realized he'd been holding. He's been tense for the past hour, awaiting the verdict of his cooking from another person

This cooking thing. He should do it more often.

From the other side of the table. Secretary Andrew flashed an unfiltered smile, void of veiled professionalism. A genuine, morning smile.

"If this is your first-time cooking, and it's already this delicious, you could do this for a living!"

Embarrassed by the compliment, Allen reminded him that they had to leave for work. Secretary Andrew rushed and left his house. Leaving Allen alone with a heated face but a pleased smile. He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckles slipping out from his lips.