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“And Aerin?”Mom’s voice comes through, softer this time, carrying a faint tremor of concern.“How is she doing?”
“She’s doing a lot better than Sanford or me,” I confess, my words heavy with the weight of our reality.I’m relieved she’s not as shattered as we are, but I wish I were in a better state for her.
A sigh of relief escapes through the speaker, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.They adore Aerin.She’s like a daughter to them, and I’m grateful that their love for her remains untouched.
“I’m glad to hear that things are better.Just remember, we’re only a call away, okay?”Dad’s voice resounds, filled with paternal protectiveness.
“I plan to start working at the bars soon,” I share, my fingers tapping absentmindedly against my chest.
“You don’t need to,” Dad interjects, his tone reflecting his instinctive need to shield me from any additional stress.
“I know,” I reassure him, “but it might help bring a sense of normalcy while we wait for San and his team to return.”
“Keep us in the loop,” Dad requests, the words heavy with unvoiced worry.
“Will do,” I assure them, already feeling the fatigue creeping in.“I need to get back to them now.Thanks for checking on me.”As I hang up the phone, their words of encouragement stay with me, providing a comforting echo that lingers in my mind.
As I step into the kitchen, the air is immediately filled with the tantalizing aroma of spices.The sizzling steak on the stovetop releases its mouthwatering fragrance, while the earthy essence of freshly washed vegetables adds a refreshing note.The enticing blend of these aromas wraps around me, creating an atmosphere that is both inviting and vibrant.
But it’s not just the scents that bring me a sense of peace.The unspoken conversations and warm silence shared between Sanford and Aerin fill the room with their old dance.They’re reviving the familiar, yet at the same time, forging a new rhythm together.
I like cooking, but witnessing the seamless synchrony between the two of them in the kitchen is probably one of my favorite things to watch.
“What are you looking at?”Aerin asks, her knife slicing through the fresh, crisp produce in a rhythmic motion.
“Obviously, I’m admiring your cooking skills and not your gorgeous ass,” I tease her.
Her knife pauses mid-air, and she shoots me a stern look.“You know the rule: You don’t cook, you don’t eat.”
“Since when was that the rule?”I object playfully, feigning outrage.
“It’s always been a thing, but we’ll let it slide for today since we’re almost finished,” Sanford says with a hint of amusement.“Get the patio table ready.We’ll eat outside.”
“He could wash and cut some strawberries for the dessert,” Aerin suggests, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
I can’t help but raise an eyebrow, playing along.“There’s a dessert that comes to mind, even more enticing,” I counter, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.
Aerin fixes me with a heated gaze.“Let’s make one thing clear.We’re not having sex until ...I don’t know, but I’m definitely not ready for it.”
She says it in the most casual way, but there’s an underlying anxiety in her casual remark.Sanford glances at me, and it’s as if I can hear his thoughts.There’s an underlying issue there.We won’t push, but we probably have to talk about it when she’s ready.
“I meant the cinnamon rolls you bought,” I quickly speak, steering the conversation away from sex or anything that might make her uncomfortable.
She nods, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.“That’s breakfast,” she reminds me.“We’ll figure out dessert later.”
“You’re the boss,” I say as I begin to pull out the silverware and flatware.
Everything about this feels comforting and familiar.Sanford and Aerin still make up the core of my world, and at this moment, I feel an overwhelming sense of connection.
I don’t know how long it’ll take to relearn everything about them.Their gestures, body language, and the way their hearts beat.But maybe we have a lifetime to uncover the depths of who they are.
“Grey, could you toss the salad when you’re done setting up the table?”Aerin’s voice breaks through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.
“I thought you were taking care of it,” I comment, a hint of curiosity in my tone.
“I’ve done the prep work.Now, I’ve got to mix up some sangria.”
“I can’t drink wine,” I remind her, my expression slightly apologetic.
