The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 582

Franco pushed the car door open and stepped out.

"Woof! Woof!"

General rushed up to him, barking frantically. After a few sharp yaps, the dog spun around to look toward the house, then turned back to bark at Franco again.

This wasn't typical behavior for General. Franco slammed his door shut and strode toward the house without missing a beat.

"He sounds like he's calling for backup," Jay noted, shutting his own door. Whatever had the dog this worked up couldn't be a minor issue.

"Let's check inside."

Franco reached the front door.

"Dada! Dada!"

A sweet, milky voice cut through the barking. Manley slid off the sofa, his short little legs pitter-pattering across the floor as he ran over.

"Dada, up!"

The boy tipped his head back and reached his arms up. He was clutching something gold in his fist, but Franco didn't pay it much attention. He scooped the toddler up and asked, "Where's Mama?"

"Food!"

Manley twisted around in his arms, unfurling his tiny fist to point a chubby finger toward the kitchen.

Petty was cooking?

Franco glanced down at General, who was now pacing anxious circles around his feet. Suddenly, he understood exactly what the dog was so terrified of.

It had happened years ago, back when he and Petty hadn't even been dating for a month. Before his car accident. Back when she was still a girl who wore every single emotion clearly on her face.

She had seen a video online of a blogger making homemade meals for their dog. Feeling bad that General had been with her for so long without receiving any special culinary treatment, she had impulsively decided to cook for him.

At first, General had sniffed the concoction, taken a polite lick, whimpered, and practically rolled his eyes.

It was the very first time Franco had ever seen a dog look genuinely disgusted.

Yet, when he reached the kitchen doorway, he wasn't met with the disastrous, chaotic scene he'd expected. She wasn't scrambling or making a mess.

She was wearing an apron, her hair pulled back into a loose, messy bun with a few stray strands framing her face, softening her features beautifully.

She no longer had that reckless confidence in her cooking. Instead, she was meticulously following a recipe, adding tiny pinches of baby-safe seasoning, tasting it with a small spoon, and making careful adjustments.

A warm, tender light softened Franco's striking features. He stood perfectly still, his eyes locked on her profile.

Petty had kept her word. She was genuinely trying her best to be a good mother.

Petty finished ladling out the baby noodles. Glancing back casually, she paused. A whole crowd was standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at her as if they were witnessing a historic event.

Franco, Manley, General, Jackson, Jay, and even the Misty Vale chef.

What was with those expressions?

She quickly withdrew her gaze, clearing her throat to mask her self-consciousness. "Everyone starts somewhere. Don't underestimate my culinary potential."