Page 50 of My Single Dad Biker

"Can we wait for her?"

I look at my son. "You like when she makes them?"

"She makes them fluffier than yours."

"They're the same recipe."

"Hers are better."

I don't argue. "We can wait. Go watch cartoons."

He disappears into the living room and I drink coffee and think about the fact that my eight-year-old son now expects Katherine to be here on Saturday mornings. That he's disappointed when she's not making breakfast. That he talks about her at school and asks when she's coming over and shows her his projects like she's someone permanent.

She is someone permanent.

I hear footsteps on the stairs and Katherine appears wearing my t-shirt and nothing else that I can see. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are still heavy with sleep and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Morning," she says.

"Morning. Coffee?"

"Please."

I pour her a cup and hand it to her. She wraps both hands around it and leans against the counter and we stand in my kitchen drinking coffee in comfortable silence.

"Louis wants pancakes," I say. "He wants you to make them."

She smiles. "Does he."

"Says yours are better than mine."

"They're the same recipe."

"That's what I told him."

"I'll make them." She sets her cup down. "Let me get dressed first."

"You don't have to get dressed."

"I'm not making pancakes in your t-shirt with your son in the next room."

"Fair."

She goes upstairs and comes back five minutes later in yoga pants and her own shirt. We make pancakes together and Louis comes in when he smells them and climbs into his chair at the table.

"I knew you'd make them," he says to Katherine.

"Your dad could have made them."

"Yours are better."

"They're exactly the same."

"Nope."

We eat breakfast together and Louis talks about wanting to go to the hardware store because I promised we could look at the new drill bits that came in.

Katherine asks what's special about drill bits. Louis launches into an explanation that is probably seventy percent wrong but delivered with complete confidence.