“Mm-hm.” Sam dropped into his chair and began to eat, though he seemed distracted, his head somewhere else entirely. Unease continued to simmer in my gut.
“And for you…” I said, sliding a plate in front of Lazlo.
“Too good to be true,” he repeated, making sure to look right at me when he said it this time.
It filled me with a warm glow, and I felt more appreciated than I had in ages. With a backdrop of sizzling butter, I got to work on the next batch of French toast. I could get used to this, I decided, the three of us having breakfast like this. It felt like the best kind of family. All that was missing now was a certain little princess…
At that thought, Mia woke up, her fussing coming through the baby monitor. I set the spatula aside, but Lazlo quickly pushed back from his spot at the table. “I’ll get her. You’re already making breakfast. I should do something to earn my keep around here,” he teased, and I loved that he seemed comfortable at making himself at home here.
I listened to him through the monitor, soothing Mia. “Are you hungry, sweet girl? Come on, let’s get you some breakfast so you can grow big and strong. You’re going to take this world by storm, aren’t you?” When he came back into the kitchen with her against his chest, it was like the most perfect sight in the world. He was made to hold a baby, a natural-born caregiver, and it made me want to show him care in return. He deserved it.
Lazlo and I took turns feeding Mia and eating our own breakfasts, until all four of us were full. Sam barely had time to finish guzzling his orange juice before the bus pulled up out front. “Better hustle, the bus is here!” I called, grabbing his lunch kit as he sprinted to put his shoes on.
“Bye, Jerry. Bye, Lazlo. Bye, Mia,” he yelled as he launched himself out the door and down the porch steps in one leap.
“You forgot your lunch!” I ran out to meet him halfway, and by the time I came back into the kitchen, I found Lazlo at the sink, washing dishes, Mia snoozing in a milk coma in the baby chair where he could keep an eye on her. “You don’t have to do that.”
He gave me a look, eyebrows raised. “And you didn’t have to cook me breakfast, and yet, here we are.”
“Yep. Here we are.” I grabbed a dishtowel and got to drying. It was so domestic, and I loved every second of it. We’d just met, and although there was no ignoring the spark between us, it was the strangest thing. There was the excitement, the anticipation of a budding relationship, but it was paired with the comfort of something longstanding, as if I’d known him for years, rather than days. The circumstances of how we were thrown together had already shown some big truths about each other. I knew that he was calm under pressure and was great with kids, that he was a caregiver through and through, but we’d apparently skipped over all the getting-to-know-you questions. So, smirking, I started back at the beginning. “What’s your favorite color?”
He laughed, seemingly caught off guard by the innocent question, soap suds up to his elbows. “Green, but like dark forest green. You?”
On any other day, I might’ve said blue, but today, I found I’d changed my mind. “Brown,” I said, staring into his rich brown eyes. “Like coffee, warm and golden.”
“Wow… is it too late to change my answer?” He chuckled lightly.
Neither of us spoke for a long moment, a steady weight pressing down on us. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself headlong into whatever was building between us, but it felt like there was something missing, something stopping us both from taking that final step forward.
“I should go,” he said softly, breaking eye contact as he drained the water from the sink and dried his hands off. “I had a really good time. Thank you for everything—for dinner, for breakfast, for letting me sleep here.” I followed him to the door and watched him put his shoes on.
I grabbed his coat from the hook and held it open for him to slide his arms in. He paused and looked up at me, reluctant to leave. It was just as well, because I was reluctant to let him leavetoo, without knowing when I could see him again. “You know, I could come back later if you want… to check on Mia.” His blush went all the way up to the tips of his ears.
Smiling, I grabbed the sides of his coat and pulled him close, breathing him in. “Yeah, I’d like that, but maybe just come back because you want to. No excuses necessary. Okay?”
“Okay… then I would like to come back.” We were close enough in height that he barely needed to tip up on his toes for our lips to meet, just the barest brush of skin, but it wasn’t nearly enough for the alpha in me.
Gripping his hips, I deepened it, growling into his mouth as he opened for me.Fuck. He let out this needy whimper, his hands sliding up my pecs to hook me around my neck, and for one agonizing moment, I came up with a dozen excuses he could give to be late to the clinic—traffic, car trouble, freak isolated snowstorm. With our bodies pressed together, I could feel his erection hard against mine. It took everything I had to break the kiss; it was like being deep underwater, when I was perfectly happy to drown.
We were both panting, and I dropped my forehead to his. “Come back for dinner tonight. No pizza this time. I want to cook for you. Please, let me feed you.” It was a compulsion at this point, to take care of the people who mattered to me, and it was shocking how quickly he’d taken that position in my life.
His laugh was enough to get me through the day—it had to be. “Okay. It’s a date.”
While it was just me and Mia for the day, I strapped her to my chest in a sling so I could get some chores done. She seemed especially content for the warmth and contact, hardly fussing at all. She was such a happy baby. You’d never know she struggled with eating.
There was this tightness in my chest every time I looked at her sweet face. I often got fosters from a rough background—sometimes when their parent was in the hospital or rehab dealing with addiction, sometimes in prison—but there was always an answer forwhy. This was the first time I’d had a child in my care with no indication of where she came from.
I stroked a finger along her soft blond peach fuzz, and she blinked up at me. “Does your mommy or daddy need help, princess?” I asked, wishing she could answer. It was the worst kind of feeling for a caregiver like me, knowing that I might’ve been needed but with no clue how to help or even where to start.
Thankfully, I had dinner to distract me. I threw myself into prepping a chicken curry, hoping to impress Lazlo with my kitchen skills. I’d been cooking since before I aged out of foster care myself, and I wanted to believe I was pretty good at it—although my usual guests were younger with a simpler palate. And just in case Lazlo wanted to crash here again, I made up the bed in the guest room.
When Sam came home from school, he came into the kitchen to visit with Mia, but I could feel him watching me as I chopped some carrots. I waited him out, thinking maybe he wanted to talk to me about whatever was on his mind. Instead, he asked, “So, is Lazlo your boyfriend?”
I laughed. “Not yet, but maybe he could be. Would that be okay?”
He shrugged like it was no big deal, his eyes on where Mia’s hand was wrapped around his finger. “He was nice.” Then he tacked on, “And you deserve somebody who makes you happy.”
I smiled over at him. “Thanks, bud. It’s still early, so we’ll see.”
