"Oh goodness, I'm sorry!" I tell him, feeling my face flush with guilt. But it lessens as Lee continues, when it becomes clear he's being sincere and not just insisting he likes chicken to make me feel better. He even takes a sip of the soup and I let out a slow breath to give him a smile.

"I'm passable," I argue, because it's true. "I think I could work harder to be really good, but I'm so much more interested in pies and cookies and things like that. I'm not sure why, but I always have been."

Taking my seat again, I sip at my bowl, humming at the familiar flavor though there's something about it that my mom can capture that I never quite manage. If only she were here to ask. I point a finger at Lee, but my smile is still sincere. "I only doubt what I know isn't true. I promise I'll do my best on food though. And I can always ask Derek for help; his food is about ten times better than mine ever is."