CHAPTER558
“Ummm… Sure.” I start looking around for some sort of bowl or tray I can prop in there to catch what is now oozing between the bars of the shelf and grab the first thing to hand. I open the open door and shove the oven mitt under the now stringy drips and close it again with a slam. It stinks, like molten plastic and vomit mixed together and I realize that’s not black sauce… but liquid plastic tray.
“Sophie?” Arrick sounds concerned, close to hysteria. I’m starting to think that maybe he is right, and I should never fend for myself. I almost shit myself, jumping in fright when our smoke alarm goes off like a sudden slap in the head with a loud invading beep, beep, beep, at ridiculous levels. The toaster is belching smoke this time and I hit it in a panic to pop the cremated toast while I waft the infernal smoke alarm with a dish rag.
He was the one who bought a stupidly efficient toaster that cremates bread in seconds, so technically this is not a fail in self-sufficiency, but more a fail of gadget use.
Dammit.
“This is your fault, you cursed me.” I blame him down the phone before I put it down and try like crazy to get the dumb alarm to shut up. Climbing on the counter to push open the window and air the room. I put my cell back to my ear when it finally stops, sliding to sit on the counter and hear him ranting my name in a very irate tone.
“What?” I cut him off.
“Swear to god, I’m coming home, right now. Have you called the fire service? Do I need to?” He’s so not sounding funny and probably one hundred percent serious. I jump down as the air starts to clear with the damp breeze from outside and try to ignore the alarm starting again, hoping it will stop soon before our neighbors call them instead.
“Shut up… Stop being lame. I just burnt toast and melted a little plastic… Oh, and set fire to the oven mitt…” I add in afterthought as I spot the tiny flame through the oven door appear naughtily and start filling a mug with water from the tap to throw in there. The noise he makes sort of suggests he just face planked his desk and is probably rubbing his face half to death in a bid to keep his crap together.
“I’m calling Janetta… And the fire service. Jesus, Sophs. This is exactly why I tell you not to cook… To let me handle things. I’m coming home, I swear. I’m on the first flight before you burn our apartment down. How the hell am I supposed to sleep when I know you’re stubborn enough to think you can fend for yourself?” He’s pissed now, a lot alarmed and sounding majorly catatonic while semi yelling at me. Cute, yet annoying, bugging my happiness and I open the oven and throw the water on the almost non-existent smoldering flames as it lets out a sizzle and dies.
“Calm your pants, Carrero. All fixed. Fires out, toaster and oven off… I promise. I think I’ll have cereal for dinner. You can cancel your panic flight home to save the kitchen… It’s only a little bit smelly and Janetta is not coming here at this time of night. Stop being such a woman!” I sigh and move to open the cupboard where we keep the cereal boxes, disinterested in his meltdown. He has them every so often and I have learned to blank it most of the time.
“This is supposed to make me feel better about being so far away? Are you sure everything’s off, the fire is out? Sophs?” He groans, mutters to himself incoherently as I ignore him. I smile to myself when I find that he’s bought me lucky charms and left them in beside my favorite bowl.
I love how thoughtful my cutie is.
“Shhhhh. I’m not completely useless. I’ll let Janetta cook next time; I mean she is the cook after all… that’s what you pay her for.” I answer pointedly, not really getting what his problem is. It’s not like I didn’t put it out. He takes a long-exaggerated breath as though trying to cool his reaction and curb that famous Carrero temper.
“I love you, but sometimes… Sometimes, Sophs… I honest to god feel like you make me crazy. I’m calling her to get her up to check you have eliminated the danger and fumes and switched it all off properly.” He sighs again, and I can imagine him rubbing his face as he tries to not lose his shit with me. It’s a common mannerism for him since we started living together.
“You’re just a girl sometimes. I think you need to take up yoga, or some sort of mediation. You get stressed way too easy for a dude and will end up having an early heart attack if you’re not careful.” I pour my cereal into my favorite pink unicorn bowl and smile to myself at all the pretty colors, tumbling together in such a cute aesthetic. Pleasing to the eye and instantly mood lifting.
“You’re my girlfriend… Do you blame me? I think I lose a year of life every three months I’m with you.” He sounds a little too deadpan for my liking.
“Ha, Ha!” I retort flatly and head to the refrigerator for milk.
“I’m being serious. You keep me on my toes for sure. Besides cremating the kitchen… Making me freak out … What movie you watching tonight? Please take my brain away from near death and house fires.” He sounds more relaxed, panic subsiding because knowing him he has already speed dialed help on his other line. I expect Janetta to be appearing soon and I know there is no stopping him; he won’t calm down fully until he has someone assure him, I am not about to harm myself with lack of domesticity.
I catch a female voice, faintly in the background saying his name, and the cell gets muffled for a second while he responds. I know he’s at his office, so it must be his PA Amanda. I’ve never met her, but he mentions her sometimes and I’ve heard her on his cell before.
She sounds young, not that he’s ever said she is, and she has a kind of low raspy tone that I guess is attractive. I instantly get that pang of jealousy and push it away because I know I’m my most insecure when we’re apart for days.
I hate that I get this way sometimes; it’s not often and it’s not with every girl he knows. Just when I’m feeling low, insecure, or just lonesome. The past few days of school have me feeling all of that and his absence is getting to me.
“Sorry, baby, I need to call you back. I have a call to take. Look Janetta is coming, I text her and she said she will be up in five.” He sounds disappointed and it gets to me too, even obscuring the fact he’s sending in my housekeeper to check on me, despite my protests. Like sending the Nanny in to check on the naughty kid in her room.
“I miss you; I wish you were here.” I murmur softly, stupid insecure girl sneaking out and making me instantly emotional now he’s going and can almost see him smiling at me.
“I miss you too, baby girl, please do not use the kitchen at all, until I come home. You need a chaperone, and a fire attendant at all times. I love you, Sophs. I’ll call you before you go to sleep to make sure you’re okay.” His smooth husky tone hits me in the gut harder, now he’s hanging up. I want him home more than ever and not with his sexy voiced, probably hot PA who thinks business calls are more important than his Sophie time.
Bitch has no clue how important Sophie time is to Arry.
“I guess, bye then.” I respond a little lackluster, annoyed at myself for being stupid and he chuckles.
“Don’t you dare give me sulky… You’re such a Princess sometimes.” He laughs down the cell and I glare at the wall.
“Whose fault is that?” I accuse snappily. I hate when he calls me a princess and implies I’m a spoiled pampered nightmare. Even if it’s true.
“Yeah, I know… I created my little monster and I have only myself to blame for the diva in you. You’re my Princess… Stop huffing, I’ll call you back in an hour, okay? Goodbye, baby. I love you.” He hangs up before I can respond, and I glare at my cell."
