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A mingling scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, with a complimenting sweetness and warmth assaulted Rowan as he entered the apartment, bringing with it a heavy wave of nostalgia. Apple pie filling, even just the filling without the buttery addition of crust, smelled and reminded Rowan of home like few things could. He’d almost forgotten Milo had planned to experiment today, and at least judging by the smell, he seemed to have been successful.

There was also music faintly playing over the household speakers.

Shania Twain?

Peering past the kitchen into the living room first, Rowan confirmed that Anabelle was gone, returned to Ethel as planned. Good. It had been like having a comatose stranger in the house. He was honestly surprised Ethel hadn’t stopped him in the lobbyor something to thank him, per her usual routine, but with her bot back, she was probably… doing whatever she did with it.

He really didn’t want to think about that too hard.

“Milo, I—” Rowan was stunned, enough so that further words failed him as he took in the nearly pristine kitchen.

Milo must have cleaned while he worked, the way he used to when following his programming, because despite some dirty dishes, there were not any ingredients on the ceiling or coating Milo’s platinum hair this time.

He also looked adorable, sunny smile greeting Rowan, while he wore what was a truly ridiculous sweetheart-style apron in blue and white gingham with embroidered blueberries overlaying the fabric and on the pockets, like he was some 1950s housewife. Rowan had bought the apron because he thought it was cute! So sue him! He more so loved seeing Milo wearing it becausehehad chosen to.

“Before you say anything about your day, please taste this.” Milo filled a small spoonful of something from a simmering pot on the stovetop, waiting for Rowan to come to him, but holding one hand under the offered spoon in case anything dripped.

Rowan had so much to tell Milo, but if the bot was going to look that sweet and excited, he couldn’t exactly say no to him. He approached, blew cool air on the gooey looking and heavenly smelling pie filling on the spoon, which didn’t look too steamy to taste, and opened his mouth for Milo to feed it to him.

Christmas. Thanksgiving. Fourth of July. It was a burst of every classic American holiday that called for pie like this and practically transported Rowan to his childhood.

Definitely better than the pretzels or French toast.

“This is amazing, Milo,” Rowan spoke after swallowing, careful to have savored that first taste.

Milo’s silver eyes flashed, gears spinning wildly in apparent excitement. “I’m so glad! But I don’t only want amazing. I wantit to be perfect. The best you’ve ever had. Your absolute favorite! Eventually. So…” Milo turned to scoop out another spoonful from the pot and held this one out to Rowan as well. “Tell me what specifically you like or don’t like about it so I can continue to make it even better.”

Rowan had to chuckle at Milo’s earnestness. He had never had anyone want so badly to do something nice for him. He blew again on this fresh bite, and when he took it into his mouth, he made greater note of the nuances of flavor.

He could admit, good as it was, especially after the day he’d had, it wasn’t perfect, at least not to his tastes.

“Itisreally good, Milo,” he prefaced. “Almost like a better McDonald’s apple pie.”

“Fast food?” Milo asked with a wrinkle of his nose.

“Nostalgic, like being a kid again. But also… maybe a little too sweet yet? A few bites are Heaven, but it would be too rich for me to finish a full piece of pie.” Rowan worried this might deflate Milo’s enthusiasm, but to the contrary, he lit back up again.

“That’s a good thing to note! I can work with reducing sweetness. What else?”

Rowan savored the lingering flavors in his mouth. “Hmm… it smells so much like cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, but I want to taste all of those more, you know?”

“I do! I can fix that! Anything else?” On this next prompt, Milo gathered one more spoonful to feed to Rowan, and while it was sweet, even more noticeable on bite three, there was so much to love about it.

“Honestly, Milo, the consistency is perfect. It’s silky, not too overloaded with apples, and the apples themselves are the perfect softness. I wouldn’t change any of that. I don’t think I’d change anything else at all.”

“I’m so glad!” Milo said again. “I can work with all of that. What to keep, what to change. Ethel’s recipes were a very goodstarting point. And, um… this is more for me than the recipe, but… what does it make youfeelwhen you taste it? So I could perhaps imagine the taste based on what it conjures within you.”

He wanted to learn. He wanted to experience everything he could—and everything he couldn’t. It was like teaching someone who couldn’t see what colors looked like by explaining them in terms of feeling. “Holidays,” Rowan said, since that’s what he had thought of first. “Coziness. Comfort. Home and family.Nicemoments with family. The perfect apple pie, the perfect comfort foods, are always like that. They take you away and, for a moment, everything feels a little bit better.”

Being with Milo made Rowan feel that way too.

The bot was just so pure. So special.

“That does sound wonderful,” Milo said. “I’m glad I could do that for you, Rowan. But I am going to make this even better next time. You’ll see.” He turned back to the stovetop and turned it off, moving the filling to a dormant burner to cool.

“What about this batch?” Rowan asked. “I hate for all of that filling to go to waste.”

“It won’t. I have wonderful ideas for reusing it for your breakfast the next few days. How I prepare it will be sure to cut the sweetness, and add in some healthier aspects of course.”