Jonas gives me a frosting-coated thumbs-up, his eyes locked in on Whit with an intimidating stare.
“Oh, I’m so scared,” Whit says sarcastically. She settles back in at my side, grabbing my forearm and slinging it around her again.
Turns out, I like this new relationship statusa lotmore. My girl’s clingy, and I have zero problem touching her every second of the day.
After a minute of silence, Jonas pipes up again. “When you sleep over, are you going to go buy cinnamon rolls in the morning? Or is this only when you come over for breakfast?”
“Is that the make-or-break for whether I’m allowed to spend the night?”
“I mean,” he says with a shrug. “If you’re gonna be hanging around, you gotta make yourself useful.”
“Jonas.” Whit scrunches her nose, scolding him.
I bite back a smile. “Noted. Cinnamon rolls are a requirement for every sleepover.”
Jonas pops the last bite into his mouth, noisily licking the residue from each finger. He ignores the napkin Whit slides across the counter, instead wiping his damp fingers on his shirt. “You wanna stay here tonight?”
I catch the way his eyes flick to his mom, in need of some reassurance after whatever they talked about last night.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “You think you can handle a rematch in that fishing game, or are you scared I’ll kick your butt again?”
He snorts. “Please.I let you win last time. You’re old. I felt bad.”
Whit shakes her head, muttering something about male egos and baked goods under her breath.
“If your mom’s okay with it, I’m good to stay.”
Whit nods, quiet, but there’s a soft look on her face that does more than words ever could. The glossiness in her eyes shimmers in the dappled sunlight streaming through the windows.
And just like that, the kitchen feels warmer. Less like a morning visit. More like something solid. Something that’s going to stick.
Whit
Colt took Jonas to some 4-H event today, giving Blair and me an afternoon to spend watchingPride & Prejudicein our pajamas. When she lived in Vancouver, we talked on the phone almost every day. But since she’s been home, it’s somehow harder to make time for catching up. Or maybe we’ve been taking the close proximity for granted.
I pluck yet another dog hair from my throw blanket, silently cursing Betty for how much she sheds. Last week I bought her the plushest dog bed I could find, yet she still insists on stealing this blanket to create a nest on the floor any chance she gets.
Blair crunches on a tortilla chip. Something about her seems off today, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. I assumed after two full weeks of endless sex and drinking margaritas in the sun, she’d be positively radiant.
“So, tell me how your honeymoon went,” I prompt her.
Her muscles relax a little, shoulders sinking a full inch. “Oh, it wassogood. I could’ve spent a full month on the beach, but it was a bit of a stretch to sneak away for two weeks.”
Despite Blair’s insistence that they couldn’t possibly accept a paid vacation to Mexico as a wedding gift—citing the need to help care for our mom and work at the clinic, andDenny needing to be at the ranch—my parents and Denny pushed back harder.
“Maybe next year you can go again. Make it an annual anniversary trip.”
Her nose scrunches. “Yeah, I don’t know if that’ll be possible.”
This is where my sister and I are fundamentally different. If somebody presents me with an opportunity to clock out of work and read smut next to a pool? Say less.
The room falls silent again, save for the television’s endless loop of trailers for movies they think I’ll enjoy.
“And how’s married life?”Does Denny have to work this hard to get her talking?
“Oh, good.Really good.” The corner of her lip pulls up. “Better than I could’ve imagined, honestly. Denver’s…he’s so good to me.”
“I’m happy for you.” My tone is genuine. “You deserve to have someone love you like that.”
