I barely have time to comprehend the text message before there’s a flurry of knocks on my front door.
I make my way over with Patch following curiously behind and pull it open to find Maevyn standing behind Aurora, who’s bouncing from foot to foot. It’s five p.m., and they’re both dressed down in pyjamas already.
“Hello, ladies.” I smile as I push open my flyscreen door and lean against the frame. “What can I do for you?”
“We were wondering if you might be free to join us for dinner?” Aurora asks.
I look over at Maevyn, who’s wearing a soft smile.
“I would love to. Are the pyjamas mandatory?”
Aurora looks down at her grey plaid shorts and faded black T-shirt. “Yes, actually.”
“This particular dinner is one we do every first Sunday of the month,” Maevyn says, and I feel my stomach trip. She’s letting me in. Asking me to be a part of another piece of her and her daughter’s life that’s special to them.
In the few weeks since having breakfast with my parents, I’ve noticed Maevyn has seemed different. Not in a bad way, but where she used to be quick-firing sass and unfiltered play, she’sbecome softer. More intentional. With what she says, with the way she touches me.
It’s definitely hard with a kid in the house to be as open with affection as I’d like. I get up early for work, and she works late a few nights a week. Truth be told, I’m finding it a lot harder to be away from her as much as I am. I’ve stayed at their house three times this week, and it still feels like not enough. I try to keep my distance on Sundays since it’s the one weekend day they always get to spend time together, which is why asking me to come over for dinner means so much to me. But knowing it’s for one of their little traditions, it’s like an arrow straight to my heart.
“Okay, I’ll go get changed. What time should I come over?”
“As soon as you’re in your pjs!” Aurora shouts, already running back over to her house.
I wrap an arm around Maevyn’s lower back, pulling her into me, so I can press a kiss to her lips. I love the way her palms come up to rest on my chest, and her body falls against mine.
“Are you sure you want me there for your special dinner?” I ask between light kisses. “I know how important these little moments between you and Aurora are.”
She pulls back, exhaling as she rests her forehead against my chin. “You’re kinda becoming one of those important things.”
I press a kiss to her forehead as my palms slide up between us, cupping her jaw so I can tilt her head back and look into her pretty brown eyes.
“Then I can’t wait.”
***
Ten minutes later, Patch and I are stepping through Maevyn’s front door. Callie’s over at Liv’s place, having dinner with her and Daisy, and I love how easily my sister has slipped into life in HeartCity. It feels nice having her close after missing so much of our lives together.
“We’re here,” I call as I move through the front hallway and down to the kitchen, following the smell of something sweet. Patch runs ahead as soon as he hears Aurora’s voice.
I round the corner to find the girls standing at the island bench. Plates and cutlery are neatly laid out, along with a bottle of syrup and two tubs of ice cream. What looks like a waffle iron is plugged in and set to one side.
Maevyn looks up with a smile, which falters slightly as her eyes drop to the grey sweatpants I’m wearing.
“This is dinner?” I ask, stepping behind the bench to stand at Maevyn’s back, peering over her shoulder. My hand naturally finds her hip and glides across her stomach, pulling her into me.
“Nice pjs,” she murmurs as she stirs batter in a big mixing bowl. Aurora stands beside us, cutting up strawberries.
I press a kiss to the side of her head. “I remembered how much you liked them.”
“On the first Sunday of every month, we have waffles for dinner.” Aurora’s eyes light up as she looks over at me.
“Really?” These two never cease to amaze me. “And how did this particular tradition come about? Because I know there’s a story.”
Maevyn leans across to lift the lid of the waffle iron and sprays it with some non-stick oil before pouring a ladle full of mixture in the centre.
“It was about nine years ago,” she starts, looking over at Aurora. “We were moving to a new city, and I thought we could make the trip in a day, but my eyes couldn’t handle being on the road any longer, so we pulled into a motel that had a twenty-four-hour diner attached. It was so late at night, and I figured we could just grab some burgers or a sandwich or something, but after midnight, they switched to breakfast foods. It was February, and one of their monthly specials was Valentine’s waffles, completewith whipped cream, pink sprinkles, and strawberries cut into hearts.”
I look down at Aurora’s chopping board and notice that she is, in fact, cutting the strawberries in half and then slicing the tops to form the two peaks of a heart.
