“I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry, so I tossed in pizza for us.”
“What?How?”
“Don’t get too excited.One of my staff is a fantastic cook and left me supper.All I need to do is toss it in the oven and enjoy.”
I wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what.It sounded nice to have someone else prep your meals.Deciding and making dinner for the rest of your life was something no one ever prepared you for.
He lifted the bottle with a wave.“This isn’t the fancy stuff,” he said.“But it’s honest.A successful harvest.”
I took a sip.It was good.Warm and grounding and unexpectedly comforting.
We swayed under the blanket, shoulders angled toward each other, the space between us charged but calm.
“This feels like home,” I said, the words slipping out without filtering.
The gift of a grin spread to his eyes with a pride I loved seeing.
I took a couple of pictures to show the kids later when I confessed what had actually transpired.I wanted photographic proof I wasn’t up to no good.Laughing as I thought about them, I tapped into the tracker.
Two of the most loved faces in my whole world were both at home.
Relief washed through me, soft and steady.Not guilt.Not longing.But a motherly sense of reassurance.
A notification popped up.Had they been notified?I doubted it.
Allie:Made monkey buns.They didn’t last though.Josh loved them.
Warmth bloomed in my chest and I tipped my chin down as I tried to hide the growing smile.
“What is it?”Tristan asked.
“My daughter,” I said.“She baked.”
“Successful outcome?”
“Every time.”I showed off the picture, almost smelling the cinnamon and melted butter, and imagining the steam as the buns were twisted apart.My stomach growled at the thought.
He tipped his head.“I’m impressed.”
I set the phone aside, feeling lighter than I had all day.
He topped up our glasses and disappeared again, returning with pizza on plates.
“Sausage, pepperoni, bacon, and green pepper.”He got comfortable on the swing and I covered his lap with the blanket.“Family recipe.Or so I’m told.”
We ate with our hands, laughing when the cheese stretched too far, when the crust crunched louder than expected.It felt...normal.In the best way.
“So,” he said after a while.“What does home look like for you these days?”
I swallowed.“Busy.Loud.Sometimes exhausting.”
“And?”
“And good,” I added.“Stable.Reliable.”
He nodded.“That matters.”
“It does,” I said as I softened my voice.“But sometimes I wonder if that’s all it’s allowed to be.”
