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“I always appreciate some help.” I smiled warmly at him. He had no idea how excited I was that I would see a lot more of him for however long he was planning to stay.
“Good,” he said and smiled at me. “I thought I’d start by making a hearty breakfast for you.”
Tristan brought a stack of plates and silverware to the wide light oak table. The massive window next to the table radiated warmth from the sun and highlighted the scars that decades of holidays and home-cooked family dinners wore into the finish.
While Tristan turned back to grab the rest of the food, I put the plates and silverware out and sat down in one of the chairs. He put the bacon, eggs, and potatoes on the table.
I watched him warily as he moved around the kitchen. All I could think about was that he had taken the time to make breakfast for me.
I knew he was just being kind, and judging from the amount of food on the table, Tristan had made breakfast for everyone.
“This was very thoughtful of you. Thank you,” I said as I put a piece of bacon on my plate. “Will everyone else be joining us?”
I was low-key trying to find out if his family was here too.
I felt guilty about how much I enjoyed this quiet time with him when I remembered he was married with a family.
“Everyone is out cold.” He sat on the other side of the table where he set his chiseled, bare chest right in front of me. How was I not supposed to check him out? The war inside my head about whether I should just enjoy the view or ask him to cover up was getting exhausting.
“We had game night last night and went to bed late.”
What was he talking about? Oh, right. His family had a game night and was still sleeping. His. Family.
“Sounds like you all had fun. I’m sure Grace and William were excited. They always love having visitors.”
I took a bite of bacon and tried not to visually sulk. God, he had to be a wonderful cook, too?
“Oh, they had such a good time,” he said around a mouth full of potatoes. “They talked to me about how much you have been helping them here for the past few years. Even before my parents started paying you. I really appreciate that.”
He looked at me closely, and his eyes sparkled. I could feel his sincere gratitude, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Oh, it's nothing. I’m just glad to help. You know they're like family to me, too.”
We fell into a comfortable silence as we ate. I was starving, and the food was beyond delicious. It embarrassed me to see my empty plate when I looked down. I was eating faster than I thought. Slow down, girl.
“So, how long are you around for?” I asked, looking at him, and our eyes met. He was quiet for a brief moment as he studied me.
“I’m not sure yet. I thought we would just come for the summer, but I'll stay as long as Gram needs me, I suppose.”
Light footsteps started rushing down the stairs and a little girl burst into the kitchen. As she launched herself into Tristan’s waiting arms, it struck me how much she looked exactly like him. She had the same deep brown eyes and impossibly shiny dark hair.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Tristan said as he kissed the top of her head and gave her a big hug. “Did you sleep well?”
The little girl, who I thought to be around four or five now, nodded as she settled into his lap, rubbing her sleepy eyes with one hand, while a teddy bear hung from the other. Her attention shifted to me and I smiled.
“Hey there,” I said. “My name is Arya. You must be Shiloh?”
“Hello,” she mumbled, looking down at the animals on her pajama top.
“Shiloh, Arya is Uncle Mason’s sister,” Tristan told her. Shiloh’s face warmed at the mention of Mason.
Although Tristan hadn't been home, Mason went to New York often to visit him, and sometimes they traveled to other places together. Mason had been his best man at his wedding, and he was Shiloh’s godfather.
“Nice to meet you,” Shiloh looked up at me and smiled while Tristan gently sat her on the chair next to him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”
I was waiting for her mother–Tristan’s wife–to come into the kitchen any minute. I kept on glancing at the doorway, thinking I heard someone approaching, but it must have just been my imagination.
