Emille woke at noon the following day to the most delicious aroma filling her home. Her eyes flew open as she remembered that Peter had slept on her sofa after they'd finished working on her meal plan at dawn. With a groan, she rolled over and looked at the clock on her nightstand.
Eleven forty-two.
After brushing her teeth and washing the sleep from her eyes, Emille navigated her way to the kitchen expecting to find him there slaving over a hot stove. What she actually found made her laugh.
A yellow crock-pot that she hadn't remembered owning was bubbling near the sink. Next to it, pinned in place by brand new packages of storage containers and bags, was a note addressed to 'Em.' It held the recipe for chicken soup made with non-starchy vegetables. Apparently, soup was the easiest way for her to control her starch and fat intake while increasing her liquids. The crockpot held eight servings, so if she had too much, she'd know it when she: 'Freeze the leftovers into portions.' He must have gone out while she'd slept.