Chapter 190: Kitchen Chaos

She turned with a basket in her arms.

His eyes moved from her to the open trunk of the Range Rover, then to the pile of ingredients she had already placed on the garage floor. "What’s all this? I thought you were taking them to the kitchen."

"Yeah, that didn’t work out." Naomi shifted the basket against her hip. "I’ll have to keep them in our kitchen."

Dorian’s brows drew together immediately. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "It’s nothing I can’t handle, I promise. Would you just give me a hand?" she added. "I’ll give you the gist."

Together, they loaded the baskets into the elevator until there was barely enough room left for the two of them.

Dorian looked down at the ridiculous amount of food surrounding them. "You bought all this today?"

"Most of it."

"And where exactly are we putting it?"

"In the kitchen."

"Our kitchen?"

Naomi looked up at him. "No, Dorian. The neighbour’s."

His mouth twitched as the elevator doors opened.

They carried everything into the kitchen and started sorting the ingredients.

Anything Naomi would need tomorrow was kept separate so she wouldn’t have to dig through half the kitchen at six in the morning.

While they worked, she told him everything.

Dorian listened without interrupting much.

Naomi was sliding vegetables into one of the refrigerator drawers when she finally reached the part about Camille.

"And then Camille called me."

"Who?"

She looked at him. "Camille."

"What did she want?"

"She heard about the kitchen situation."

"How?"

Naomi shrugged. "She basically implied that no one would touch me and reminded me that she has connections."

"She threatened you."

"Technically—"

Dorian slowly put down the container in his hand.

Oh dear.

He walked to the sink, rinsed his hands thoroughly and dried them on a towel.

Then he started walking out of the kitchen.

She straightened. "Where are you going?"

"To Camille’s."

Naomi’s eyes widened and she hurried after him. "Dorian!" She ran around him and planted herself directly in his path.

He stopped before he walked into her.

She put both palms flat against his chest. "You don’t have to."

"I cannot allow this."

"I know that. But what are you actually going to do?" Naomi asked.

"I warned her!"

The words thundered through the kitchen.

"Yes, and she is well within her rights. If she told a few people not to rent to me, so what?"

"Naomi—"

"Dorian, listen to me." She slid her palms slightly higher over his chest, partly to calm him and partly because she liked touching him. "Trust me. There is nothing Camille can throw at me that will move me from where I stand. She wants me scared and and and questioning us. That’s the entire point."

"It isn’t going to work. Besides I found another solution. Your mother is letting me use the back of the house. I went to your parents’ place after I exhausted every other option. I’ll create a temporary kitchen setup outside, rent what I need and use parts of the main kitchen for storage and refrigeration. It’ll be exhausting, but I can do it."

Dorian exhaled slowly. "Next time, you call me immediately, I am your husband."

Naomi smiled. "Also, I would rather handle Camille womano a womano."

Dorian laughed. "Womano a womano?"

"I’d rather not have my husband fighting a woman for me," Naomi said, still keeping both palms against his chest. "Maintain your steeze, husband. You know it gets me hot when you do."

Dorian’s brows lifted. "It does, huh? Alright, then." His mouth curved. "I’m going to be the husband of steeze next." He winked.

Naomi laughed and shook her head. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not immediately marching over there and committing a felony on my behalf. And thank you for always jumping to my rescue."

"There is something about being a knight in shining armour." He nodded thoughtfully. "It’s packed with steeze too."

"There you go. That’s the spirit."

Dorian slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "For the record, I still don’t like this. And if Camille crosses a line that actually gives me something legal to work with, I’m not maintaining any steeze."

"You can maintain aggressive steeze."

"That sounds better."

Naomi smiled and rested her hands against his chest.

They settled back into their usual rhythm after that, easing into playful banter until the whole thing felt less like a crisis.

*****

When Daniel received a message in the Fourth Time’s the Charm group chat saying there was a crisis and Dorian needed all the guys, he didn’t bother asking too many questions.

He had already dropped the kids at school, so he turned the car toward the Heathcliffe home and drove straight there.

The group chat name had somehow survived far longer than anyone expected.

They had created it after news hit about Dorian’s fourth wife in Vegas.

At the time, it had been hilarious.

Dorian Heathcliffe, serial husband, accidentally married again.

Fourth Time’s the Charm had been Daniel’s suggestion.

Somehow, the name remained. The joke had changed, though. Back then, Naomi had been the mysterious Vegas wife none of them understood.

Now?

They genuinely adored her.

For most of the guys, Daniel suspected the loyalty had begun the moment Naomi fed them her legendary chicken and chips.

Daniel’s attachment was different.

Naomi was family.

Extended family, technically, but family all the same.

She was Lexie’s sister-in-law. She was Eleanor and Maurice’s daughter-in-law.

And, most importantly, she was his best friend’s wife.

Daniel pulled into the Heathcliffe property and parked.

Then he stepped into the yard.

Dorian was already there. He stood in the middle of the back compound with his hands on his hips, staring blankly at the open space.

"Sup, man?" Daniel asked as he walked farther into the backyard.

Dorian finally looked away from the empty space. "I need help."

Daniel glanced around. "With?"

"I need a kitchen set up out here today."

"Wedding crisis?"

"Yes."

Daniel nodded slowly. "I was surprised when I saw more than three words from you in the group chat. Thought someone had died. To be fair, the other guys will be at work. It’s a weekday, so—"