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“You can stay.” Sarah settled into my arms.
“I can set an alarm.” I moved to look for my phone.
She stopped my movement with a hand on my arm. “Don’t. Addy would love to see you in the morning.”
Pleased at the idea, I said, “I would, too.”
“Then it’s settled,” she said as she got up to unlock the bedroom door so Addy could find us in the middle of the night if she needed us.
This felt like another step in our relationship. One where we trusted Addy to be okay with us. I only saw things getting better from here.
The bed bounced erratically, waking me the next morning. “What’s Knox doing here?”
I slowly opened my eyes to see Addy’s shocked expression.
This wasn’t how I intended to greet her in the morning. I had visions of being dressed and making her pancakes in the kitchen. I grabbed the sheet to make sure I was covered.
“He stayed overnight,” Sarah said, like it was a normal occurrence and nothing to be worked up over. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and get dressed? We’ll make something special for breakfast.”
Addy tipped her head to the side. “Will you make pancakes?”
“I think we can manage that,” I said as I glanced at the clock. It was early.
When she bounded out of the room, we exchanged a relieved look and rushed to get dressed before she returned.
“That was a close one,” I said.
“We should get dressed before we fall asleep next time.”
I moved behind her and wrapped my arms around her. “I like the idea that there will be a next time.”
“Me, too.”
I felt rather than saw her grin.
Footsteps raced by the door. “Come downstairs with me.”
Sarah turned. “She doesn’t like to be downstairs by herself in the morning.”
“I’ll go. You take your time getting ready.” I kissed her softly, already dreading having to leave her to go to work.
I met Addy at the top of the steps. “What kind of pancakes do you want? Pumpkin?”
Her nose scrunched as we made our way down the steps. “Ew. No.”
“Banana?”
“Knox,” she whined.
“Why don’t you tell me what kind you’d like, and I’ll see if your mom has what we need?”
“Chocolate chips,” she said, like it was the only intelligent answer to that question. “She keeps them with the mugs.”
“That’s an odd place,” I said as I pulled them down.
“It’s so I can’t reach them.”
“Do you sneak them?” I asked, remembering how we’d find any junk food in our house growing up and devour it.
