Grace smiled after seeing Samuel’s state. She stood up and picked the bowl and stretched the bowl of soup towards him.
Samuel crossed his hands and opened his mouth.
Grace: ???
“You want me to feed you?” Grace asked in disbelief.
“You made that. Isn’t it natural for you to feed me?” Samuel pouted.
“What are you, five years old?” Grace chuckled.
“Don’t forget. My mother has instructed you to take care of me.” Samuel said with some pride.
Grace’s smile faltered, and she let out a long, resigned sigh.
“Fine,” she muttered.
“Isn’t it just feeding?”
Without waiting for a reply, she plopped back into her chair and began feeding him. He grinned as if he’d won some
grand victory.
By the time the bowl was empty, Samuel turned his head toward the tissue box and gave her a pointed look.
“Oh, for the love of” Grace grabbed a tissue and dabbed at his mouth, a little rougher than necessary.
“Careful, woman!” Samuel hissed.
“Be little gentler!”
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