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“Yeah, about that, I only have a few eggs.”
“See, he doesn’t have enough for us. We have things to eat at the house.”
“Avery ate all of the Froot Loops,” Sammy says.
“First of all, those were not for you,” she says, glancing at me like I’d judge her. I do not. Froot Loops are the bomb. “And second of all, I think I need to talk to your aunt about her sugar intake.”
“Yeah, I have a feeling Avery on a sugar high is a lot to handle,” I say with a chuckle.
Liv slants me a look, much like her daughter did a few moments ago. God, these two women are so much alike. “It’s why she passed out about five this morning.”
“You were up?”
She shakes her head. “I just know my sister.”
“We have eggs,” Callie says. “I can go get some.”
We both look at her daughter, who shrugs.
“He really shouldn’t eat all this bacon by himself. It’s dangerous.”
Liv’s gaze lands on the griddle.
“Okay but be careful with them.”
“I can handle eggs, Mom.” But I don’t miss the curve of Callie’s lips as she hurries by me to go get some eggs.
“Do you like bacon gravy?” I ask.
“I’ve never had bacon gravy.”
“What the heck?” I say with mock outrage. “How have you lived in Texas most your life and not had bacon gravy?”
She relaxes a little, and smiles. “Sorry. I’m from North Texas. It’s all sausage gravy up there.”
“We need to rectify that today.”
“Can I help?”
I nod. “Can you keep an eye on this while I whip up some biscuits?”
“Oh, Mason, you don’t have to do that. I feel horrible.”
“No, I was being honest. I love cooking for people, but I don’t have anyone to have breakfast with since Everly settled down. Wyatt works until two in the morning, so he’s a no go for morning breakfast. It’s my favorite meal of the day.”
She nods. “Okay.”
We get to work. I whip up some buttermilk biscuits in no time, even enlisting Sammy to help me cut them. Callie and Liv take care of cracking the eggs, then I make the gravy and cook the eggs. We’re sitting down to breakfast together at my kitchen table within thirty minutes.
“This is so good,” Sammy says as he slurps up the gravy. “Mom, you should get the recipe.”
“Are you saying my gravy isn’t any good?”
“No, it tastes good, but it’s lumpy.” He looks at me. “Like there are alotof lumps.”
“Sammy!” A flush crawls up her neck into her face.
“You don’t complain because she serves it with her fried chicken,” Callie says.
