As soon as Alaric walked in, he hugged Claire and burst into tears.
"Mom, I've been wandering for over a month! I missed you so much that I lost weight. If the next competition wasn't in West End, close to Rosemont City, my coach wouldn't have let me come home."
"Alright, enough with the sweet talk," Claire replied, pushing him away with a look of disdain. "You just want to eat my cooking. Don't pretend it's about missing me."
"Isn't that the same thing?" Alaric leaned in, rubbing against her arm. "No one cooks like my mom. I'll never find a wife who can cook as well as you."
"Oh, come on." Claire poked his forehead. "You want to marry someone just so she can cook for you? If that's all you want, just hire a chef. Our restaurant's chefs are pretty good."
"No way. They aren't women," Alaric whined. "Even if they were, they can't match your beauty and personality. I don't want anyone who can't reach your level."
