Ryker is stealing a fry off Maisie’s plate when she isn’t looking. Dorian is listening intently to Maisie, asking her questions about the crayon-eating incident like it’s a crime scene investigation.
It’s family. It’s loud and perfect.
My mind drifts, uninvited, to the restaurant pack. To the three men who are currently probably cleaning up the dinner service or… what do they even do after work? Watching movies?
Could this be my life with them?
Would we sit around a table like this? Would we laugh?
I take a long drink of my beer. It’s a dangerous fantasy.
Because for every warm fuzzy thought about Knox, Eli, and Fallon, there’s a cold, jagged memory of Luke. I couldn’t make him happy.
I tried for years. I cooked, I cleaned, I stayed quiet, I stayed loud, I did everything I could think of to keep the peace, and it was never enough.
If I failed with one angry, broken man, how on earth am I supposed to handle a pack of three? How could I possibly be enough for them?
It’s bound to crash and burn. I have the golden touch for disaster. It’s only a matter of time before I ruin the dynamic at Blade & Butter, just like I ruin everything else.
“Mom? You okay?”
I blink. Maisie is looking at me, her head cocked to the side. There’s a smudge of ketchup on her chin.
“Yeah, bug,” I say, forcing a smile. “Just tired. It was a long day.”
“You’re spacey,” she observes, wiping her chin with a napkin. “Are you thinking about the flowers?”
“Something like that.”
After dinner, we clear the table, but Jude and Ryker shoo us away. “Go relax,” Jude says, stacking plates. “We’ve got cleanup. You two go play cards.”
Norah is fading fast, the pregnancy exhaustion catching up with her. “I think I’m going to head up,” she says, standing up slowly. “My ankles are the size of grapefruits.”
“Go,” I tell her. “I’ll get Maisie ready for bed.”
“Thanks, Amber.” She kisses Jude on the cheek, then Dorian, then me. “This was perfect. Thank you for being here.”
I watch her waddle inside, supported by Ryker. Dorian follows them to grab his sketchbook, leaving Maisie and me on the patio.
“Cards?” Maisie asks, pulling a deck of Go Fish cards from her coat pocket.
“You bet.”
We play three rounds of Go Fish, huddled under the patio heater. The snow has stopped completely, and the sky is a deep, velvet black, speckled with stars.
Maisie beats me every time, mostly because she cheats, but I don’t call her on it. I just watch her face, glowing in the soft light of the heater.
“Tyler lost his tooth today,” Maisie says suddenly, slapping a queen down on the table.
“Really?” I ask, sorting my hand. “Which one?”
“The bottom one. The pointy one.” She grins, showing me her own teeth. “He was bleeding everywhere at recess. It was awesome. He said he won’t put it under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy.”
“Did he now?”
“Yeah, but he says the Tooth Fairy isn’t real.” Maisie rolls her eyes. “I told him he’s being ridiculous. He’s just saying that because he wants attention.”
“And what do you think?”
