The Midwife's Wards

LOREN

Phoebe could be as cheeky as she wanted. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t going to be able to convince Loren that he wasn’t an imposition or a burden. Similarly, he probably wasn’t going to be able to disabuse her of her fucking strange notion that only women could do housework. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. ”I don’t. But I helped my stepmother and my sister and my cousins with chores growing up, and when I was grown. As for splitting the labor, who is to say everyone can’t provide and care equally? Or that women can’t be the provider and men can’t be the caregiver?” Just about the only good thing about the Launceleyns was that they didn’t care who the individual was, just what they could accomplish. Zariah had been the head of the family, and no one batted an eye. The dark, flip side of that coin was that male and female relatives were both pressed into servitude if they didn’t have magic.

Still, this weird hangup of the midwife’s was surprising, to say the least. ”Here I am, being domestic, and there you are, a woman who happens to be the Dean of the Medical College, a professional provider. And look, the world’s not falling apart.” Finishing up the last of the dishes, the summoner bent down and opened the oven to check on the cobbler again. It was perfectly golden brown and smelled divine, and he smirked as he slid it out. ”There. It’s done. World's still here. If you still doubt my baking skills, I can make some bread if you have the ingredients.” No doubt Phoebe would freak out about that as well.

But don’t be weary if it’s broken

Families are like that—

they’re split up and always torn.