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“Nothing’s different, Pops,” Steph said. “You just haven’t left the house in a while so you’re probably seeing things with new eyes.”
“The place needs painting,” he continued. “See how dingy the walls are? They used to be white.”
Steph cut a glance to Cal and gave a slight shake of her head.
“I wasn’t even going to offer,” he said quietly.
A smile appeared on her face, but it didn’t erase the tired lines about her eyes.
“Boy, I’m starving,” Pops declared as he moved from the living room to the kitchen. “Do we have any leftovers?”
“I can make something fresh,” Steph said.
“Let me cook,” Cal offered. “I’m a pro breakfast maker.”
“Well, it’s about time you carried some weight around here,” Pops said.
Steph winced, but Cal laughed. “Prepare yourself for the best French toast you’ve had in your life.”
Pops eased into his recliner, folding his hands atop his belly. “Sounds like an excellent plan.” Then he switched on the remote and surfed through channels. “Morning TV is a waste. Hope there’s an old game on.”
Steph followed Cal into the kitchen and sidled up to him as he opened the refrigerator door. “You have eggs and milk, right?” he asked.
“Yes, but you don’t have to cook, Cal,” she said. “Don’t you need to look up bus schedules?”
He looked over at her. “Trying to get rid of me?”
Her cheeks pinked. “No. I just don’t want … you’ve already done so much.”
Cal grasped her hand and enfolded her fingers. “Didn’t we already have this talk? We’re friends, you know, and if Lori or Brandy or Julie were here, would you turn down their cooking?”
Her mouth parted, and her blue eyes filled with tears. “No … but you’ve done so much. I mean, you drove me home, you had to sleep on that awful couch, and—”
“Bee, I’m glad to be here, and I’m glad to help.” He squeezed her hand.
She looked down at their intertwined hands, then seemed to relax a little, until his stomach growled.
“Is that you?” she asked with a laugh, stepping away.
“Yep.” He smiled and reached for the eggs.
Steph cut up strawberries as he started grilling the French toast.
When he caught her watching him, appreciation in her gaze, he said, “See, breakfast isn’t so bad.”
She gave a little shake of her head. “I still can’t believe you’re here. I’m not used to …”
When her voice trailed off, he supplied, “Help?”
“Yeah.” Her expression turned sheepish.
“Speaking of help,” he said. “What are the plans to get Pops back and forth to his appointments?”
“Oh.” Steph waved a hand. “I’ll talk to the Carol at the salon and rearrange my schedule.”
Cal decided to bite his tongue, for now.
OVER THEIR MEAL OF FRENCH toast, Steph’s phone kept buzzing, until she finally had to turn it off. “Sorry,” she said.
