The next week was all about adjustments. Andrew adjusted to the fact that this was now also his house, and Maxwell adjusted to how much they were the opposite.
Maxwell couldn't cook worth a damn. Forgive his silver spoon fingers, but he'd never had the need to learn. They had had cooks and chefs or whatever they wanted to call themselves since he was young. So when he moved into his new place, the kitchen was basically just an accessory. He'd asked his assistant to stock it with whatever supplies one needed for cooking, but his assistant also grew up in a silver spoon house, so they had no idea.
They ended up just asking for advice and filling the house. What he cared more about was how much freezer or fridge space he had for prepped meals. He didn't eat for enjoyment, he ate to survive.
Andrew, he found out, was the exact opposite.
