27
GREY
With Sonny on the counter, we add ingredients to the waffle mix. Mostly, he eats blueberries. I hear the soft patter of Everly descending the stairs. I smooth my beard and then set the plates of waffles with fresh berries and real maple syrup on the table.
My gaze repeatedly drifts to the ring around my finger. During the impromptu ceremony with Everly, we’d exchanged rings to make it official—presumably, in case the insurance company started sniffing around. I stashed the band in my wallet and after the kiss last night, I felt a tug from deep inside to slip it on.
When my eyes land on Everly at the foot of the stairs, three words spring to mind. Beautiful. Radiant. Gorgeous.
She wears denim shorts and a neon knit tank top—I’m guessing she’s mixing and matching her old clothes and new ones. I make a mental note to make sure she gets whatever new clothing she wants.
“Good morning,” she says, bright-eyed.
“Morning, Buttercup.”
“God morgen,” Sonny says.
“I didn’t realize I was going to be staying at a bed-and-breakfast.”
“You’re the first guest since I finished the place. Never really any before that either.” The cabin, if it could now be called that anymore, was a special place for my family. It’s where my memories live and I look forward to making new ones with Sonny and Everly.
“I’m honored to be the first houseguest.” She looks at the table. “And look at this. You’re spoiling me.” Everly’s eyes widen at the sight of the Belgian waffles. “What can I do to help?”
Sonny splays his fingers. “Look! I have purple fingers.” Only, he says purple likepoo-rple,then starts giggling.
Everly tickles him. Then, as if this is one of many mornings we’ve spent as a family, she helps him wash his hands and get ready for breakfast. The two of them laugh about something. The sound is addictive, contagious.
Once we sit down and say a blessing, I say, “Tell me if I added too much cinnamon.”
I help Sonny slice his waffles into rectangular soldiers all in a line.
Everly wipes her hands and says, “My work here is done.”
My expression drops like an elevator. “What do you mean?”
“I’m supposed to be teaching you etiquette and you’re my best student yet. My only student. Well, at Blancbourg anyway.”
“Did you work elsewhere before?”
She nods and takes a bite of a waffle. Like with the dinner the night before, she closes her eyes as though in reverie.
Around a mouthful, she says, “Little did you know, little did I know, the way to my heart is through my stomach.”
More questions volley through my mind. What kinds of berries does she like? Is she a breakfast person? Brunch? What are her hobbies besides sketching, smiling, and ice skating? There is so little I know about her. My wife. The woman I wantto spend my life with. The thought causes me to inhale a piece of waffle and cough.
“You okay?” she asks, her attention darting to me with alarm.
Sonny carefully gets down from his seat and then pats me on the lower back.
I boost him onto my lap and he proceeds to eat all of my poo-rple blueberries. “I’m alright, little buddy.”
But I’m not entirely sure that’s true. The choking fit passes, but feelings swirl around inside before landing like a gameboard spinner on the kiss we shared last night. It was then that I knew she is the woman for me.
Everly continues, oblivious to the awakening of my heart. It expanded and made room for Sonny and grows again, welcoming her in, what she’d been doing for me all along.
If the guys could read my mind right now, I’d get a whooping on the field, but feeling something, anything, is better than the cold, isolating void of nothing for the last several months.
Without realizing it, she’s given me so much: trust, grace, and patience. That’s not something I’m going to ignore or deny because I want to seem like tough, gruff Grey.
