I poured a cup of coffee for Lila, added milk until it turned the color she liked it, and set it in front of her as she took her seat across from me. She looked down at the coffee then at the breakfast—pancakes, bacon, fruit that Noah and I had cut up—then finally her eyes met mine. “It’s kind of nice having you around.”
“Kind of nice?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Does that mean you want me to stay?” I sat on the stool next to Noah’s and filled my plate with food, sending the message that I had no intention of going anywhere. I poured Noah’s syrup for him, already knowing from experience that his pancakes would end up swimming in syrup if he was left to his own devices.
“What do you mean by stay?” she asked, playing coy as she speared a strawberry and guided it to her mouth.
“You know, so I’ll be on hand to cook your breakfast every morning.”
“Oh.” She gave me that sly smile. “So you want to be my short-order cook?”
I grinned. “For the sake of keeping this PG, that’s exactly what I want to be.”
“There might be a job opening.” She shrugged. “But I have other applicants to interview.”
What a joker. “I can already guarantee that they won’t have my qualifications.” I gave her some jazz hands. “Like my magic hands, for instance.”
She shook her head and ate her breakfast, her cheeks flushed. As much as I appreciated seeing Lila in a fancy dress and fuck-me stilettos, this was the look I loved best on her. Messy bun with a few stray locks of hair framing her face, no makeup, and wearing a faded blue T-shirt that used to be mine.
“Nice T-shirt.”
“Oh, this old thing? It’s my ex-boyfriend’s.”
I scowled at her. She just laughed and bit into a crispy strip of bacon.
“Your mommy’s a comedian,” I told Noah.
“What’s a median?”
“Uncle Jude thinks I’m funny.”
Noah’s brow furrowed. “You’re not funny.”
That made me laugh.
“Is Uncle Jude funny?” Lila asked.
Noah stuffed a forkful of pancakes into his mouth and thought about it for a minute before he nodded. “He tells funny pickle jokes.”
Lila groaned. “Oh God. Not the pickle jokes.”
I bumped Noah’s fist. It was sticky with maple syrup.
Just as I was thinking that Sunday mornings with Lila and Noah were my favorite thing in the world, my newfound happiness was destroyed by a knock on the door followed by the sound of boots crossing the hardwood floor.
“Lila! Noah!” he boomed, effectively wreaking havoc on our peaceful Sunday morning.
“Daddy!” Noah jumped down from his stool and launched himself into Brody’s outstretched arms.
“Hey little man.” Brody lifted Noah into his arms and gave him a big hug. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too.”
“Noah, come back and finish your breakfast,” Lila said. “Hey. We weren’t expecting you this early,” she told Brody.
“Yeah. I can see that.” Brody set Noah back on his stool and completely ignored me as if I wasn’t even sitting there. I returned the favor.
“We made pancakes!” Noah crowed. “You want some?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He grabbed a strip of bacon, shoved it in his mouth, and helped himself to a cup of coffee. He knew which cupboard to find the mugs in and made himself right at home, pulling up a stool next to Lila. Driving home the point that they were comfortable with each other.
“How did you do?” she asked Brody.
“Did you win, Daddy?” Noah asked, his eyes wide, forearms planted on the countertop as he knelt on the tall stool, his rapt attention focused on the man who was clearly a hero in his eyes. The stool tipped forward on two legs. My hand shot out to steady him so the stool wouldn’t fly out from under him and he’d end up face-planting on the granite. I kept my left hand on the wooden leg and drank my coffee with my right hand.
Brody shook his head. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Nope. Getting too old.”
“Old?” Lila said with a snort. “You’ve only just turned thirty-one.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Been doing it since I was a teenager. The best guys on the circuit now are ten years younger than me.”
Lila gave him a little jab with her elbow. “Time to hang up your spurs, cowboy.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled loudly. “Looks that way.”
“I know you love it, Brody,” she said. “But we need you to stay safe and strong. That damned old rodeo has left you with more broken bones and injuries than any man should ever have in a lifetime.”
He side-eyed her. “Careful there. You’re starting to sound like you actually care.”
“I do care. I worry about you every time you’re on the road.”
I gritted my teeth, surprised that the mug in my hand didn’t crack under the pressure of my tight grip. She worried about him. Like he was going off to a combat zone instead of a stupid rodeo where all he had to do was stay on the back of a horse. He did it for the glory, for the cheers of the crowd and the adoration. I knew this because I’d gone to watch him in plenty of rodeos back in high school where he’d swagger around like he was God’s gift to women.
“And I always tell you not to worry,” he told Lila. “I’ll always come home.”
The dig was intended for me. But Lila was feeding right into it. Lapping this shit up.
This was a cozy little family scene and I was the odd man out. “You done?” I asked her tersely, reaching for her plate which she hadn’t touched since the cowboy swaggered in and took up residence right the fuck next to her.
“Yeah, but don’t worry about the dishes. I can—”
Ignoring her protests, I cleared the dishes.
“Yeah, Mommy,” Noah piped up. “Daddy always comes home.”
I filled the dishwasher and slammed it shut with more force than I’d intended. Then I turned around to tell
