Me: Jane is in the shower and the kids are eating breakfast, so it’s going to be awhile. I’ll keep you updated.
Smoke replies instantly, sending me a thumbs up.
“Sorry about that,” I say to the kids again as I set down my phone.
Emily tilts her head to the side and looks at me in confusion. “Why are you sorry? Daddy was always on his phone. We know to be quiet when someone’s on it.”
“Emily,” Tanner hisses, making my heart ache.
That son of a bitch.
“You know, Em, you’re right. It’s nice to be quiet if someone’s talking on the phone, but it’s also rude to text at the table when you’re eating with others,” I tell her as I try to tamp down my rage.
“But you aren’t eating,” she points out.
“Not yet, but you are, and that’s all that matters. Sometimes, though, I will have to check my phone if I get a message when we’re eating.”
“In case it’s an emergency?” she asks thoughtfully.
“Exactly.”
“What are you three talking about?” Jane asks.
I look over at her and suck in a breath.
That fucking minx.
Instead of putting on the top I had carefully picked out for her, she put on one of my Saint’s Garage T-shirts. She has it paired with leggings and fluffy socks. Her hair hangs damp around her shoulders, and I swear to God she’s never looked more beautiful.
“You’re staring,” she murmurs as she steps up next to me.
“You’re gorgeous.”
Jane’s cheeks flush as she looks at her kids.
“Are you two done?” she asks the kids, ignoring my compliment.
“Yep,” Emily says as Tanner nods.
“Cool. Why don’t you two go watch TV while Mac and I have breakfast?” She turns to look at me. “Is that okay?”
“Works for me.” I turn back to the kids. “Will you two be okay in here by yourselves while your mom and I eat in the backyard? We need to talk for a minute.”
A line forms between Tanner’s brows as his eyes bounce between his mom and me. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. We just need to go over plans to make sure nothing like last night happens again,” I tell him honestly.
Reluctantly, he nods and jumps down from his stool before helping Emily down.
As they leave the kitchen, I make a plate for Jane and one for myself.
“I can do that, you know,” she tells me with humor in her voice.
“I know, but I want to.” Once I’m done, I look over at her. “Ready?”
Instead of answering me, she walks to the sliding glass door and opens it. I follow after her and head outside.
We both sit down and start eating in silence. Finally, after a few minutes, she sets down her fork and looks at me.
