Clink.
Four glasses met over a cozy dinner table in the Quinns household, and for a fleeting moment, the Quinns looked like a family in perfect sync.
Aiden exhaled quietly. Tonight's mission was a success. No interrogation, no explosion. Just good food, half-decent wine, and the illusion of harmony. How long they could keep this up, he had no idea. But for now, all he could do was keep cooking, keep smiling, and play the role of Valeria's doting partner. These people didn't deserve to be collateral damage.
"Mom, Dad, try Aiden's cooking!" Valeria said, beaming. There was a spark in her voice that hadn't been there earlier—pride, maybe. Or relief.
Dr. Richard Quinn, former agricultural engineer turned university dean, finally gave in to curiosity. He reached for a piece of braised short rib from the Dutch oven and dabbed it in the horseradish cream. A classic Midwestern cut, dressed up with city flair.
The meat was melt-in-your-mouth tender, the sauce punchy but balanced. A hit.
"Damn," Richard muttered, brows raised. "This could win ribbons at the State Fair."
Praise from Richard Quinn was rare. Culinary praise? Practically mythic.
Victoria Quinn, sitting across the table in her favorite oatmeal cardigan, looked up in mild disbelief. "Really?" she asked, arching a brow. Still skeptical, she delicately tried a piece of the pan-seared cod.
A nibble turned into a thoughtful chew.
Well, well.
Not only was it fresh and buttery—it was better than Richard's. And considering the legend of his grad-school seafood paella, that was no small feat.
"You never said you had a kitchen background," Richard said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"I worked in the back of a bistro in Queens for a couple years," Aiden replied. "The head chef there showed me the ropes."
"Figures," Richard murmured, sipping his wine. "Kids who grow up broke tend to grow up fast. I see a bit of myself in you."
Aiden wasn't sure how to respond. But then Richard leaned back in his chair, glass in hand, and launched into a story that no one at the table seemed to have heard before.
"Back in '81, I had five siblings. Parents worked doubles at the steel plant. College? Not even on the radar. SATs felt like a scam. So my uncle—ran a greasy spoon in Buffalo—gave me a job scrubbing pans."
He took a sip. "Worked the line by day, studied out back by the dumpsters at night. Did that for three years. Took the SATs on a dare, landed in a state tech school. Switched majors three times, blew a grant, but clawed my way through."
Valeria leaned in. "Is that when you met Mom?"
He chuckled, casting a look toward Victoria. "That's right. Her mother was a professor. Brilliant, terrifying. First time I met her, I showed up after class with a box of muffins. She hadn't eaten all day."
Valeria blinked. "Wait. You bribed Grandma with baked goods?"
"She was standing outside the co-op arguing over bruised apples. What was I supposed to do?" Richard shrugged. "I figured if I was gonna flirt with her daughter, I had to win over the matriarch first."
Valeria laughed. "That is the most you thing I've ever heard."
"I respect the hustle," Leo said from the far end of the table. The family's youngest—college dropout, basement philosopher, gamer-in-chief—raised his Coke in salute. "To strategic muffins and surprise romance."
"You're an idiot," Richard muttered.
"Takes one to raise one."
Richard rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
Then the mood shifted, just slightly, as he turned to Leo.
"You know," he said, tone deepening, "your mother and I worked our asses off so you kids wouldn't have to study under streetlights or ration grocery stamps. And what do we get? A dropout majoring in Minecraft."
Leo didn't miss a beat. "It's the philosophical intersection of simulated labor and digital economies."
"You're unemployed."
Valeria coughed into her wine.
Leo raised his glass. "Don't worry. I'll be the cautionary tale at your TED Talk."
Aiden watched it all unfold, equal parts amused and intrigued. Valeria had warned him about the chaos. But seeing it—feeling it—it wasn't chaos at all. It was real. Human.
Then Richard turned back to him. "You said you went to Columbia, right? Journalism?"
"Yeah," Aiden nodded.
Richard clinked his glass against Aiden's. "We both worked kitchens. We both got out. Maybe there's hope for this one after all."
"Hey!" Leo said, deeply offended.
"To survival," Aiden offered, lifting his glass.
Richard drained his in a single gulp.
"Easy," Valeria said quickly. "You're not twenty-five anymore."
"I'm fine," Richard said, waving her off, red creeping up his neck. "Just talking to my future son-in-law."
Aiden blinked. Wait—what?
Valeria leaned over and murmured, "He's two drinks past his limit. Help me get him to the guest room after dessert?"
"What are you two whispering about?" Richard slurred, pointing dramatically.
"That you should eat more," Valeria said sweetly.
Richard stood, a bit wobbly, and slung an arm around Aiden's shoulders. "Listen to me. Valeria's the best thing I've ever made—aside from that cod you cooked. Don't screw it up."
Aiden steadied him. "I won't. Promise."
"Good. Now help me find my slippers."