Remy managed to make a neat stack of four boxes against the far wall of the living room, completing his wall of sixteen boxes that contained the majority of the items from the town house. They were each neatly labeled with which room of the new flat they were to be delivered to, with markings to indicate fragile contents on some. Bedroom, office, entertainment, clothing, books, most of the kitchen, and half the bathroom were packed away, just waiting for the movers to come and take them away.
Usually he would insist upon moving his things on his own time, slowly, one by one to their new location but there were people he trusted who could do the job for him and he did not want to insult his father by turning down the offer. Rugs were rolled, bed frame dismantled, and the only things that weren’t packed away in boxes were what they planned on using in the next few days.
The Cajun turned from surveying his domain to the stove where he was cooking a risotto. The stock in the pan bubbled and simmered while the rice slowly absorbed the liquid. They had another few minutes before it was ready to be served, and he had a feeling Pietro would be down soon. This was one of their more relaxing nights. They were able to sit down, relax, enjoy one another’s company, and drink wine if they so chose to utilise the bottle that Remy opened and had breathing in the carafe on the counter far enough from the stove that it would not get warm.
When the rice was in its final sages, he reduced the heat and got their two plates from the almost-empty cupboard. “Cher? Y’ in de house?” If he wasn’t, it was only a phone call away and he could probably be back in under five minutes