"You come before everything," he said softly and far too honestly. "Well, everything except your french silk pie. That is perfection." Hugo really did love that pie. It was amazingly delicious pie.
"I don't know if anyone can get use to that. You're always looking for something in the kitchen that I've eaten or rolling your eyes at the crumbs I leave around." Hugo smiled at the memory. Those old friendly arguments were familiar and comforting.