Chapter 28: Forgot something?

Rowan POV:

The kids were too young to be left without supervision. That was clear to be seen in the way they were happy with toast and scrambled eggs. I didn't hold it against them, but they still needed to get some real food in them.

I had nothing against scrambled eggs and toast. Those were luxuries for Basil and I. Still, now that I had access to an oven, fresh produce, and butter, I could work wonders.

"Rowan, when was the last time you cooked?" Jean had developed a certain attachment to me. I couldn't understand where he was coming from, honestly. I had talked him out of doing something for which he felt strongly. Still, he stuck to me as if glued. Even helped me peel the potatoes. 

Oh, the poor potatoes. I had to make him stop after leaving most of the potato on the skin of the first potato. He watched me intensively while I peeled. Then he did better. 

Food was still wasted. My starved self wept tears of regret at the fact.

"I don't know if I have to be honest. Hm... Basil, when was the last time I cooked?" I wanted to make Basil more approachable to the kids. He was now something of a rogue of an uncle to them all. It was obviously that if I didn't do anything, I would soon be dubbed the mother of the party.

It also didn't help my case that I looked like a girl in this pink apron. Honestly, why did Lars have a pink apron? That kid was up to something, but what, I didn't know.

"I think two weeks ago. We got run out of town, and I managed to start a fire in that one cave. Do you remember? The one with the bear cub?" Ah, how could I forget? 

"It was cute," I said absentmindedly. Basil chuckled.

"His mother was even cuter. A gall after my own heart. Tried to conquer it for herself, too!" And here Basil was, making light of a near-death experience.

"Wait! Is the bear ok?" This time Lars pipped in. I had no idea if his head was really full of cotton, or if he just held on to his innocence, but his question made me sigh.

"The bear family is still fine. Basil just put the mama bear to sleep," which had a double meaning, and was the wrong thing to say, besides.

"How could you, Basil? Who is going to take care of the cub now?" Lars all but roared that one out. Good kid, but, honestly, why did he have to jump to conclusions?

"Where is that cave?" Mike was already standing up. Honestly, what was with those children?

"If we rush to it, I can heal the cub! I know I can do it!" And Jean was such a pure soul...

"I can sleep in Lars' room, and the cub can have my room!" Nate was just an opportunistic imp. I was disappointed in him. Deeply disappointed.

"Ok, kiddos, calm down! Rowan meant sleep, as in that, what you do when you have tired yourselves out from the playing you do the entire day long. The mama bear, God, Rowan, did you really call a bear that? Mama bear, oh my God, I can't. I just can't!"

Basil was no help as usual. I narrowed my eyes, laid my hands on my hips.

Big, big mistake...

"What do you think you are laughing about? Is that the example you want to give to these good and pure children? They are ready to adopt a bear cub, just so it will have a chance at life! And you..."

"Wait up, the bears are alive?" Asked Nate which cemented my impression that he didn't care about any wildlife. "Lars, we can adopt a cat instead. It can have my room!"

That little...

"No one is sleeping with anyone until you all turn eighteen," Basil sounded like an amused father, while I still stood there, a pink apron on me, hands at my hips. "Or your mama won't give you any dessert."

There were times during which I asked myself why I gave Basil a chance. Honestly, we met during a secret mission. Back then, I was so excited. I would work with an Arkano battle mage general! What could catapult my resume to the ranks of the secret agents better than that?

He teased me from the get-go. Called me pretty, complimented my hair, knew nothing about being professional.

Basil was pure charm. Life was not fair. The kids had no chance. No one had a chance to withstand that lopsided smile, which even now made me rethink the grave sentence I was about to lay on Basil.

"I will sleep on the couch," I said, for even this sliver of doubt was not enough to soften my resolve. I was not a person who'd kick their lover from the bedroom. No, what sort of message did that send?

That I thought that the space which we shared, where we made love and spoke in the dead of night, was mine and mine alone.

No, if I wanted to get my point across, I had to first remind Basil that I loved him enough to see the bedroom as a shared space. And then, even though I wanted to be with him, I was ready to hurt myself to show him how he had hurt me.

Or pissed me off. Which was often the case.

"Wait up, Rowan! Don't do it! I can talk the kids into not calling you their mother, honest!" He had no intention of doing that. I was certain of that.

"No, I will be sleeping on the couch. For an entire week," then I went back to the soup I was cooking. My fate was sealed, but even with the role with which Basil saddled me came great power.

I was going to abuse the living heck out of it.

"Set the table, wash your hands, read before dinner," my word was law, just as the word of every mother was. And my ducklings rushed to obey.