“Why didn’t you make dinner?” His gaze is so intense. My stomach twists. He’s trying to work this all out because he cares, but I still feel like an ungrateful naughty schoolgirl being told off by my dad.

I sigh, and he holds me a little tighter. He loves me, and I know that. I also know his change in career direction is putting pressure on him, and that’s one of the reasons why I don’t want to make a huge deal over it.

“I feel like a stranger in my own home.”

His brows knit. “In what way?”

“Every time I step into that kitchen with the intention of making anything, Mrs Becker all but pushes me out. I know she wants to take care of us the way she’s taken care of you, but I’ve never needed taking care of before.”

He reaches up and brushes a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “You are the most capable person I’ve ever met. I needed her to make sure I had good meals and to run the household in my absence. It’s your home now. Say the word and I’ll help her find work somewhere else.”

For a moment, I pause and just look at him. “You’d do that?”

He nods. “She’s been good to me, and I wouldn’t just throw her out, but yes. I’d do anything for you.”

His expression softens, and tears roll down my cheeks at just how sweet he’s being. I feel like I’m always crying around him, but the roller coaster of our life seems far from over.

“In the meantime, I’ll talk to her tomorrow and make it clear she needs to give you the space to do your own thing. I thought it was weird you weren’t cooking at all, but just assumed that you wanted a break for a while.”

I shake my head. “I really do miss cooking.”

“Well, there you go.” He wipes my tears with his thumb. “I’m sorry I didn’t work it out earlier. The last thing I ever want to see is you or Amelia unhappy. You two are my everything.”

“I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily.”

“You come first. No matter what.”

He strokes my cheek as I smile. “That’s better. Now I need you to say something really sarcastic or bitter to complete the Delaney experience.”

“You’re such a smart-arse.”

“I do like the way you say arse.” He says it with the r slightly rolled and it just sounds weird. “I also like your arse.”

“Okay, you need to start talking your Canadian way again because this attempt at a Kiwi accent is really freaking me out.”