Verena

I dumped a pack of salmon fillets into the cart. Matilda's hand flew to her chest, eyes widening in indignation as she plucked the salmon out of

the cart and returned it. “Not the fish…” she mumbled. 

My brows knitted in confusion. “Why? I need the fish to make salmon and broccoli pasta for dinner. We agreed I’d cook dinner,”

Her gaze cut to mine as she shook her head briefly and let out a small laugh. “Yes, but not when you have no idea that the sight of fish in Mr.Daxton’s meal repulses him. Even the smell,”

My lips parted, embarrassment flaming up my cheeks as she patted...