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“Does that mean no coffee?” I asked, getting grumpier by the second. I could deal with a lot of things but three kids in the morning and no power or coffee was pushing even my limits.
“I put on a pot,” Mackenzie said, nodding to a full pot of coffee that had already percolated.
I could just fucking kiss her right now.
“Thank God,” I said and walked to the pot, pouring myself a cup of coffee. I added sugar from the coffee station and sipped it. I groaned as the caffeine breathed life back into me.
A smile played around Mackenzie’s lips.
“How is your sister?” I asked.
“She’s doing just great,” Mackenzie said brightly.
Yeah, that had to be for the sake of the kids. Mackenzie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“That’s good to hear,” I said.
“With the gate and the tree, she won’t be able to come home for a while, but we had a video call earlier.”
“Earlier?” I asked. Had they all been up since the crack of fucking dawn? Mackenzie looked put together and perfect—as usual. She wore jeans so tight they looked painted on and a loose blouse that made her look elegant. Her short hair was tied back as best as she could get it, and the flyaway strands that escaped made her look like I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to bed for round fucking three.
Mackenzie cleared her throat and pulled the pan off the gas.
“We can’t do toast without power, but we can have eggs and bacon, and that’s pretty damn good already,” she said.
She divided the scrambled egg up onto three small plastic plates and two ceramic plates. She added bacon and squirted ketchup over everything.
“What are you doing!?” I cried out.
Mackenzie frowned and looked at the egg. “What?”
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s zombie brains,” Benjamin said. “With fresh blood.”
I stared at the food. “Zombie brains?”
“Don’t you eat ketchup on your egg?” Mackenzie asked.
“No,” I said dryly. “I have taste.”
Mackenzie giggled. “Well, I know all about yourtasteafter…” She stopped herself. “But this is pretty good. Don’t knock it until you try it.”
I shook my head. The idea of ketchup on eggs was horrifying.
Mackenzie set the kids up around the kitchen table, and we sat opposite each other. I glanced up at her, but she averted her eyes.
The atmosphere between us was a little strained, awkward. I wished the kids weren’t here so that we could talk.
Ornottalk, which was really what I wanted. My cock twitched in my pants, thinking about last night again.
“Are zombies real?” Benjamin asked before stuffing more egg into his mouth than should have been possible.
“No,” Mackenzie said. “They’re a story. Like Santa.”
I stilled. “You think Santa is a story?”
“Yup,” Benjamin said, nodding. “Mommy says she’s the one who puts the presents under the tree, and she works really hard to give them to us because she loves us. She also eats the cookies and drinks the milk because it’s right that she gets a treat.”
