“But I have flour—”
I grab a napkin from the basket on their counter and brush the flour from his cheek. “Now you don’t. Let’s go.”
We sit on his couch and Jack curls against my side immediately, resting his head against mine. For about two minutes, everything is quiet aside from the low music and humming in the kitchen. The morning is once again peaceful. Then Jack bolts upright so fast I almost jump from the couch.
“I forgot you brought donuts!”
I fall back against the cushions with a laugh as he rushes to the doorway and returns with the box, already taking a giant bite of one. “Thought I was enough?” I tease.
He swallows and blinks at me. “You are. But when you bring food, I want the food, too.”
He has a sliver of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. I brush it aside with my thumb. “You’re a mess this morning.”
He sticks the other half of the donut in my mouth and flashes that elfin smile. “A hot mess. Just like you.”
I almost choke, chewing and laughing at the same time. Jack nods. “Definitely hot, especially with your eyes getting a little red and watery. And that glare you can’t keep because you’re secretly amused. Very attractive.”
I shove him, trying to regain my breath. I cough to clear my throat, getting past the choking bit. “Jerk.”
Jack picks up another donut. “You love me.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
Jack’s grin widens. I grab my own donut from the box between us. “You’re still an idiot.”
He leans against me again. “Don’t they say only fools fall in love?”
That warmth stirs beneath my breastbone. “I’ll be a fool for you, Jack Benson.”
“Just be you,” he says, shifting his head to my shoulder. “But I’ll be one for you, too.”
The morning passes ina contented blur. Jack and I snuggle on his couch for a bit, just talking, before we turn on the TV to get it set to the parade. Hugh runs out of his room like a cheetah, zooming onto the couch to tackle Jack and then into thekitchen to see what Mrs. Benson is up to. Janet stumbles out a minute later, mumbles a greeting, and goes into the kitchen.
“She’s been staying up late,” Jack says, his eyes following his sister. “And trying to stop drinking coffee.”
The quiet is broken with the toddler’s awakening, but it’s the bustling I’m used to at Jack’s house. We play with Hugh on the carpet and on the grass out front. Mrs. Benson calls us in periodically to sample things and eat appetizers of cheese and crackers and sausage. We watch snatches of the parade.
All the while, the aroma from the kitchen becomes more tantalizing, and when Mrs. Benson says it’s time to set the table because we’ll eat soon, Jack turns to me.
“See if your uncle changed his mind,” Jack urges. “Just for Mom.”
I frown. “He won’t have.”
I pull my phone from my bag and check it anyway, and stare at it. Jack walks up behind me about ten seconds later. I tilt the phone so he can see the screen—and the notifications on it. Two missed calls.
From Mom.
“Call her,” Jack says in a soft voice.
I swallow hard. Jack’s pale hand touches mine, fleetingly. That warmth that had just abated swirls again, and I call her.
“Elliot?” she says upon picking up.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Your father and I are home for Thanksgiving. Where are you?”
“I’m at Jack’s house, like I told you.”
