Dinner was ready, and the table was set with plates of steaming pasta. I stood back for a moment, surveying my work.
The smell of garlic, herbs, and freshly grated Parmesan filled the air. I wasn't one to usually be proud of my cooking, but I had to admit—it looked good. I turned to call the others.
"Dinner's ready," I said, waving them over.
Lydia was the first to the table, eyes gleaming with amusement. "I can't believe you actually did it. I was halfway expecting a burned pot or, at least, you giving up and ordering takeout."
I shot her a withering look, which only made her grin wider. Isabel followed closely behind, a teasing smirk firmly in place. "Well, let's see if it's actually edible. Just because it looks good doesn't mean anything, right?"
