Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem novel Chapter 1240

Downstairs, two wealthy CEOs were busy in the kitchen. Both men had aprons tied around their waists, sleeves rolled up high.

Clayton was fussing over his little princess, worried she’d go to bed hungry, but also careful about her sensitive tummy.

So, he took matters into his own hands, kneading dough to make delicate, easy-to-digest homemade noodles as a midnight snack for his daughter.

Tarquin, eager to impress his father-in-law—and score some points with his wife—handled everything else: washing, chopping, prepping. He’d transformed himself into a professional sous-chef for the evening.

Clayton glanced over, impressed by Tarquin’s efficiency. “I always heard Mr. Bradford of Jindale City was sharp in the business world. Didn’t expect you to be sharp in the kitchen, too.”

Tarquin grinned. “Learned from my dad when I was a kid. He always said knowing how to cook is a basic survival skill. Plus, it’s a big plus when you’re looking for a wife. So, I had to learn.”

Clayton nodded approvingly. “Your dad’s got a point. There’s nothing shameful about a man cooking for his family. My old man used to say, ‘A man who cooks for his loved ones is never a bad man.’”

“If someone ever mocks you for making dinner for your wife and kids, you don’t need them in your life. They’re not real men.”

Tarquin nodded, “Couldn’t agree more.”

Clayton finished kneading the dough and plopped it onto the counter. He rolled it flat with practiced ease, folded it, and sliced it into fine strips.

“Irene’s loved my chicken noodle soup since she was a toddler. The very first solid food she ever tried was my homemade noodles in broth.”

“Even though work kept me busy, I made sure to cook for my girl twice a week. Every birthday—Pamela’s, Irene’s—from her first to her last, I made her birthday noodles myself.”

“I’ve always thought, no matter how successful a man is outside, real happiness is found at home. Don’t you think?”

Tarquin knew Clayton was hinting at him and quickly chimed in, “I agree, Dad. Don’t worry—Elysia and our kids will always come first for me. Elysia’s number one, kids number two.”

“And from now on, I’ll follow your lead. I’ll always be there for Elysia and the kids on their birthdays. Birthday noodles, made by me.”

Clayton chuckled, “I feel good handing Irene over to you.”

Tarquin finished washing the veggies and stood by, watching as Clayton sliced the noodles, showering him with praise and peppering him with questions, eager to learn. He even solemnly declared he wanted to master the recipe for Elysia.