Page 112 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Carson’s lips curved. “Pops cared more than I did.”

“That is not true,” Meme said, and Carson looked toward her. “You cried for an hour.”

“I was fourteen.”

“You slept with that buckle beside your bed.”

“Meme.”

“For three nights.”

“Meme.”

Jax grinned. “This is excellent.”

Carson pointed her fork at him. “You have eaten my grandmother’s food. Don’t push your luck.”

I looked at the photograph again. The girl in it looked exactly like the one I’d watched online. Proud.

When Meme stood to retrieve dessert Carson immediately started gathering plates.

“Leave them.”

“I can help.”

“You’ve been working all morning.”

“So have you.”

“I’m old. Gives me authority.”

“That isn’t how age works.”

“Sure it is.”

Carson carried the plates to the sink anyway. I watched her and Meme quietly argue over who would wash them. Neither won. They ended up doing it together.

Jax leaned toward me. “You’re doing it again.”

I kept my voice low. “Doing what?”

“Staring.”

“Eat your pie.”

“There isn’t pie yet.”

“Then prepare.”

He looked toward Carson. Then back at me. A grin slowly formed. I kicked him beneath the table. Harder this time, and he grunted.

Carson turned. “What happened?”

“Your table attacked him.”

She went back to drying a plate.

Jax mouthed asshole.