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Natalie had been nothing but a pain in Declan’s butt since he’d arrived. The least she could do was feed his son while he took care of her mess.
“Want me to make you something? I can scramble up some amazing eggs.”
“Are you going tocrackthe eggs?” he asked. His lips pursed.
“Yes.” What a strange question.
“Can I help?” Chris’s face lit up with an excited smile.
“Sure.” She loved cooking with Addy. How different could this be?
She helped Chris onto one of the counters once they were in the kitchen.
“We’re not allowed to stand or sit on counters at home, you know.”
She smiled as she scooped the coffee grounds into the filter. Coffee was definitely needed this morning. “There aren’t exceptions to the counter-sitting rule when you help in the kitchen?”
Chris’s nose scrunched up. “Not really.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “I don’t get to see Dad too much. He travels a lot, and my mom doesn’t really let me help. She gets mad because I make a mess and then she has to clean it up. She calls it double the work.”
It was true that any time Addy “helped,” it usually meant extra work for Natalie. But she loved spending time with her daughter, so the mess didn’t matter. It had been something she and Greg had fought about. Although he loved his daughter, he didn’t do well with mess or chaos.
“Since it’s vacation, I vote we can handle the mess this time.” Hopefully, she’d get it cleaned up before Chris’s mom arrived.
“Me too!” Chris bounced on the counter.
Natalie turned to the fridge and grabbed the essentials. “Okay. Got the butter, eggs, and cheese. What am I forgetting?”
“Spinach?” Chris asked.
“Who puts that in their eggs?” She cringed.
“Dad.” Chris giggled. “But I think it’s slimy.”
“That’s ’cause itisslimy,” Natalie agreed. “Oh, wait. Bacon. Who doesn’t love bacon? It’s a breakfast staple.”
“Dad doesn’t like it.” Chris shrugged. “He says it’s bad for you.”
Of course. She should have guessed. Removing bacon from her diet would make her a cranky grump too.At least20 percent of the joy in her life could be attributed to the salty, yummy food of the gods.
“Do you know a lot about snow?” Chris asked.
Natalie eyed him. “Why?” Having a four-year-old meant she knew better than to answer a leading question without knowing where it was going.
“Is it hard to build a snowman? I’ve never built one before.”
“You’ve never built a snowman? Do you not live around here?”
“No. I live in the city,” Chris said.
That probably meant New York. Natalie had to smile that even a six-year-old knew that New York wasthecity.
“But we don’t go outside much because Mom is alwaystoo busyand Dad hates being in the cold. He might build me one if I beg enough, but he doesn’t live with us anymore, so he isn’t around a lot.”
Oh.That’swhy Mom wasn’t here.
“I candefinitelyteach you to build a snowman. I’ve done it almost a hundred times.”
“A hundred?” Chris’s eyes got huge. “You’re like a snowman expert.”
