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She has a good memory. “My nanny. She said every man needed to have a few good dishes in their repertoire.”
“Blueberry syrup is in that repertoire?”
“I might have picked up more than one thing, but since I live alone there’s no point in cooking.”
“Benson says that you have a girl. You don’t cook for her?”
It sounds like Mrs. C is fishing for information. I like that she’s not condemning me right away, and instead trying to get a full picture. “I don’t have a girl back home. Your son was making a joke. I’m single and have been my whole life. Haven’t had a woman because none have interested me.”
“But Emma does?”
Mrs. C did hear my comment about Emma being a pretty girl I wanted to spoil.
“Yes, ma’am. Laid eyes on her at Tom’s and thought,That’s the one. I need to meet her. When I found out she was Frank’s sister, I was kind of thrown for a loop. He’s protective of her.”
“He’s a good brother.”
The blueberries and sugar have boiled down to a nice syrup. I let it cool a bit and then drizzle it on top of the fresh buns. “I owe him a lot.”
Mrs. C hums at that and helps me fix a tray of milk, blueberry-topped cinnamon rolls, and a side of banana slices. She hands me the loaded tray with a smile. “Emma’s my only daughter. If you hurt her, you’ll wish that Benson had let you die in the field.”
Mrs. C gives me a small push when my feet don’t move. “Go on. You don’t want the blueberry syrup to get cold. It’s better when it’s warm.”
A little dazed, I deliver the food to Emma, pausing only to knock once before entering. She’s still under the covers, but she’s awake, scrolling through her phone.
“Trying to search for pics of me on the internet?” I joke.
“Watching videos of Emanuel the emu on TikTok. I think I need an emu.” She shows me the screen, and I watch a fifteen-second video of an emu pecking a camera until it drops to the ground.
“Seems dangerous.” I place the tray on her lap and fork up a bite for her. “Eat up. I made this for you.”
“Mom made them. I heard her.”
“I made the syrup topping. Give me some credit for my hard work,” I mock complain.
“What in the hell are you doing in my sister’s bedroom?” shouts Frank from the door.
“Feeding her breakfast,” I reply without turning around. I cut off another piece with the side of the fork and lift it to Emma’s mouth. Her eyes sparkle with mirth. “Your mom threatened me with my life if I didn’t get in here and make sure your sister started her day right.”
“Bullshit.” He stomps off. “Ma, Emma’s got a man in her bedroom. She’s still in her bed!”
“Do you think he’s going to ravish her before he’s had his morning coffee? Besides, the door is open, isn’t that right, Vincent?” Mrs. C raises her voice.
“Wide open. Can feel the breeze from the front door,” I yell back.
Emma starts laughing so hard that I have to lift the tray off her lap. “Of all the things I expected to happen this morning, none of this was on the list.”
“Stick with me, babe, and all your days will be fun.” I bite off half of the cinnamon roll and lean back to enjoy the sight of a smiley, tousled Emma lying in her childhood bed, eating breakfast and looking like my whole future.
CHAPTER12
EMMA
“Heard you smacked someone last night,”Sam says as he throws a small, squishy football into the air and catches it. He’s laid out on the stretcher.
“Did you steal your own kids' toy?” He tosses the football into the air again, almost hitting the ceiling of the ambulance this time. I lean forward and catch it before he can.
“I borrowed it. Besides, I bought it.” I snort a laugh at how defensive he is. “All she does is drool all over it anyways. She’s not gonna miss it.”
