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“Why?”
“Why, why?”
“I asked first.”
“Why am I making you breakfast?”
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling before inhaling a deep breath. “Yes. Why are you making me breakfast?”
“Because I can. Because I want to.”
Because I want to show her how good we are together. Because I’ve finally figured my shit out. No more hot and cold with Harmony. She deserves better. I can’t give her forever, but I can have her for a while. At least until the situation with Robin is settled.
And during this time, I’ll treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Thus, breakfast. I’d prefer to give her breakfast in bed, but there’s no chance of breakfast in bed with a baby around.
“Have a seat,” I tell her when she enters the kitchen.
“I need to prepare a bottle for Robin.”
“I’ve got it.”
I motion toward the bottle cooling on the kitchen counter. I wait for her to sit down before picking it up and shaking a few drops of the formula on the inside of my wrist. Not too warm. Perfect.
“Here you go.” I hand Harmony the bottle.
“Thanks,” she mutters before offering the bottle to Robin who immediately latches on. Baby girl is a good eater. A good screamer, too.
“How do you prefer your eggs?” I ask as I return to the stove to prepare breakfast.
“You don’t need to make me breakfast.”
“True,” I agree. “Now, how do you prefer your eggs?”
“Sunny side up.”
“Wonderful.”
I pour her a cup of coffee and add sugar before setting it in front of her on the kitchen table. She picks it up and drinks half of the cup in one go.
“Ah. I needed that,” she says as she sets the cup down.
“Someone keep you up most of the night?” I wink at her.
“Yep. This baby.”
I scowl. I wasn’t referring to the baby and she knows it.
I return to the stove to finish our breakfast while she feeds the baby. When I set our plates on the table, Robin is finished eating. I take the bottle from Harmony as she places the baby on her shoulder to burp her.
“I think she’s asleep,” I whisper.
“I’ll lay her down.”
By the time Harmony returns, I’ve topped up her coffee and poured her some orange juice.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she says as she sits down and picks up her fork.
“I wanted to.”
