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A chuckle moved through me as I pressed a kiss to her temple on my way to the coffee pot.
“I, ah, I kind of wasn’t, you know, joking,” she said as she followed me, going to put her hands on the island, then thinking better of it at the last second. “We all sit on that couch,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” I said, passing her a mug, then getting the pumpkin spice creamer I’d gotten her at the store. “I got everything we need to clean this place. It’s all in the hall closet. But I got it. I’m usually who does the clean-up after the parties.”
“This might make me seem like a complete loser, but I kind of… like cleaning and organizing. I wouldn’t mind helping.”
So then we drank our coffee.
Got supplies.
And set to work.
Did we sweep and shimmy to a Taylor Swift soundtrack of her more upbeat songs? We sure did. And I got to watch as she jiggled her ass, and shook her hips, and sang her heart out.
“Hey, watch out for—“ I started to warn as she turned in a circle near the island, not seeing him until it was too late.
And Cat reached out and scratched the shit out of her hand.
“Ow ow ow ow ow,” Everleigh cried out as she all but tossed the roll of paper towels onto the island, making Cat dodge it with a blood-curdling yowl before hopping down.
“Alright. Let me look,” I said, reaching down for her hips, to lift her up onto the counter as I reached for her hand.
The sweet smile she gave me then had that sensation moving through my chest again.
“Not horrible,” I said. “Give me a sec,” I added, turning away to go grab the medical kit.
I squirted some antiseptic on it, then got a bandage covered in triple antibiotic, and wrapped it around.
Finished, I pulled her finger up to press a kiss to the bandage.
“How’s that?” I asked, looking up, and seeing something in her gaze that I couldn’t quite put a finger on, but it made that sensation in my chest intensify.
“Better,” she told me. “That cat needs therapy,” she decided.
“How about I make something for breakfast to make up for him?” I suggested.
“Something… sweet?” she asked.
“Pancakes? French toast? Waffles? What are we talking here?”
“French toast. The answer is always French toast,” she said, beaming at me.
“French toast it is. You stay right here,” I demanded, handing her back her coffee.
So that was where she was perched as I stood next to her, whipping eggs, dipping bread, chopping up some fruit for the side.
We sat and ate breakfast by ourselves, small talking mostly about her mom and sister.
Apparently, Bayleigh had really done a lot of healing once she moved away. She’d started a career, she found a man who worshipped her, and then, recently, she’d gotten pregnant.
Everleigh was excited as fuck to be an aunt to her coming niece.
“Do you want kids?” I asked after she finished gushing about all the clothes and toys she had saved for the baby shower.
“Definitely,” she said, no hesitation. “At least two,” she added. “I think the number will mostly depend on how much I will need to continue to work, that kind of thing,” she said. “You?”
“Always have, yeah,” I said, nodding. “Think everyone around here having kids has only made me want them more,” I added.
