Page 100 of Already Callin’ You Mine

23

PRESLEY

“Mama!”

My heart leaps, the shrill greeting, paired with the stomping of little feet, the cherry on top of the perfect day sundae. As fantastic as it was to have some “me time” and be pampered within an inch of my life, I missed my boys.

Both of them.

“Hey, bu⁠—”

“We cooked!” Otis cuts me off, jumping up and down. “We made in chilly abas!”

In chilly abas?

I force a smile as I try to decode that one. Usually, I’m pretty quick at determining what he means. Then again, I also usually have some kind of context clue. As far as in chilly abas go, I’m in the dark.

“Let Mama get in the door, Little Man,” Jace mock scolds, appearing behind him and scooping him up.

Otis giggles, the happy sound bouncing off the walls. The clean walls. And the clean floor.

Holy shit…this place is spotless.

I walk inside, shedding my jacket and purse, my eyes bouncing off every amazingly clean surface, so taken aback by the scene. I swear, if this place could sparkle, it would. If the bathrooms look half this good, then Jace is hired.

“Hi,” he greets, a massive smile taking over. Leaning into me, he steals a quick kiss, like it’s a given. An automatic thing whenever one of us walks through this door.

“Hi.”

“How was your day?”

“Fabulous. Over the top and completely unnecessary.” I sigh. “But absolutely fabulous.”

“Good, that’s what we were going for.” Jace steals another kiss, then steps backward, turning to head back to the kitchen.

“In chilly abas!” Otis throws his hands up, still ready to be the life of the party, and clearly annoyed that the adults are taking their time.

“Enchiladas…” Jace corrects him. “They’re called enchiladas.”

In chilly abas…enchiladas. Gotcha. That makes sense now. Almost to the point where I feel a little stupid for not getting there on my own.

“You cooked?”

Jace turns to face me. “Sure did. And they are just about ready, if you want to have a seat.”

I follow them into the kitchen, walking slowly to admire the work they did today. Seriously, I can’t get over this. I don’t think this place was this clean when we moved in.

Shuffling Otis from Jace’s arms to mine, I turn my focus to him and getting situated at the table. He objects at first, trying to tell me that he’s going to serve me dinner. That idea gets vetoed by both Jace and me, although I think the only reason Otis listened is because Jace said so. He is clearly the one with all the cool points right now.

“Alrighty, here we are…” Jace places a large baking dish fully of bubbling goodness in the middle of the table. My tummy gurgles, ready to dive in. Jace grabs Otis’s plate, scooping some of the dish onto it, then cutting it into little kid bite-size pieces. “This half is plain cheese, so it’s Little Man approved. Careful, it’s hot.”

Placing the plate back in front of Otis, Jace hesitates, and I can see the questions firing in his brain. Safety first really is his way of life.

“Little bites,” I say, jumping in to rescue him. “And blow on each one at least three times before you put it in your mouth. Okay?”

“’tay!”

Nodding, Jace lowers the plate, then turns to me, holding out his hand for mine. “And this half…is pork with chipotle and poblano peppers. I know how you like things spicy, Mama.”