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48
I’m still a mushy mess on the inside, wearing a smile as I head downstairs for breakfast.
Mom and Dad are up, talking with Genevieve as she prepares pancakes.
“Good morning,” I greet, entering the kitchen.
“Morning, sweetie,” Mom answers first, followed by Genevieve.
Dad finishes drinking his coffee before speaking. “I’ve thought some more about the car.”
I perk up at that, turning from the coffee machine. “Yeah?”
“Well, your mom and I discussed it, and we think it’s a good idea.”
Delight swells in my chest. “Really? You’re okay with me keeping the Infiniti?”
“Yes,” he answers in a low tone, looking at Mom briefly. “As long as you’re responsible.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I hurry over to hug him and Mom, whispering to her, “Thanks for softening him up to the idea.”
“I heard that,” Dad grumbles.
Mom bumps his side playfully.
Footsteps resound from the stairs. Soon after, Aunt Helena enters the kitchen. Like Mom, she’s wearing a flowy dress. “Good, you’re all up.”
“Work schedule is ingrained,” Mom says.
“Indeed,” Aunt Helena agrees, filling a glass with juice.
I help Genevieve bring everything to the breakfast nook, and she joins us at the table as we settle down to eat.
Reid swerves into the kitchen shortly, spiking my heart rate. Crazy how a simple t-shirt, sweats, and messy hair turns me on.
“Morning, guys.” He sits across from me, flashing a knowing look that causes a hot streak to slither down my spine at the memory of our late-night session.
“How about sailing after this?” Aunt Helena suggests, and that zaps my mind to reality. “Jeff, you used to enjoy it back then.”
“Still do,” Dad says before a bite. “You didn’t sell the boats?”
Aunt Helena shakes her head. “I’ve kept the boats and the lake house.”
Reid stares at me again at the mention of the lake house, continuing to watch me over the glass as he drinks his orange juice.
Perhaps he’s signaling we should tell them now. With a slight turn of my head, I indicate not yet.
“I hope you won’t mind if I take one of Mother’s paintings when we leave?” Dad checks with his sister.
“Not at all. Take what you like.” She beams at me. “I didn’t know Cassie had the talent.”
“Indeed,” Genevieve adds with a chuckle. “She sketched me.”
I smile at them.
“Cassie is an amazing artist,” Reid praises me. “She drew my portrait, too. It left me speechless.”
I discern the pure love and admiration in his tone and see it in his piercing eyes. As everyone looks at him, I wonder if they also detect the truth of our closeness.
