“The thing is, I really hate cooking meals for myself. It makes me so… sad. You know?” Emma’s simple, arched eyebrow reflected to Regan that no, she did not know. “It’s so much work,” Regan explained, gesturing around the kitchen. “To get all of the ingredients and then spend all of the time prepping and cooking, and then the cleanup – all to, what? Sit here and have dinner by myself for twenty minutes?”
