65. The One Where He Meets My Father

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"Cut the fruits. Avoid pineapple. Make sure there are watermelon and apples. And cornflakes. The milk should not be boiled. No almonds and peanut butter to be placed on the table at all." Moving around the kitchen, I checked the cornflakes boxes and clutched my forehead. He hated those flavors. "Do we've eggs and bread?" The maid nodded. "Get that! Fast!"

"Alina, what are you doing?" Swirling, I found Misha, leaning against the kitchen door frame, smirking. "Since you became the maid of our house?"

"Shut up." I caught the egg tray and bowl. Breaking them, I asked for milk and vanilla extract. "Kabir is coming for breakfast. He's very specific about his breakfast."

"How you know?" She taunted. "It's like you're living with him." I tensed under her words and swirled the mixture together, ignoring she was standing behind me. "Just joking. What are you making?"

"French toast. He loves them." I nodded for the maid to start the stove. "Make a cup of black coffee. Not too strong nor too l