She’s puttering around the kitchen, overfocused in that way that always gives her away. Breakfast burritos are lined up on the counter, foil-wrapped and warm. Next to them sit three packed lunches, neat and ready.
She rolls her eyes at me, but there’s a smile there, too. “I made us all lunches.”
I follow her gaze to the counter, then back to her. “You made me lunch?”
She shrugs like it’s nothing, her cheeks pink. “I figured you needed to eat.”
I take a sip of coffee to hide my grin, because suddenlythis feels like the best part of my day. Well, that and waking up with her in my arms. This day is off to a good start.
She’s not wrong. But it’s not the lunch I want to eat. Her pretend bullshit feels anything but pretend. The way she’s all the sudden acting nervous and looking at me just like I’ve always looked at her.
She’s so damn beautiful in this kitchen, her hair in that long braid down her back. And this is what I’ve dreamed of. Everyday moments with her. Coffee in the kitchen, lunches together, and waking up beside each other. But I can’t say any of this to her. Not yet anyways.
Instead, I make a joke because that is easier than lusting after my pretend fiancée. “That’s really sweet of you,” I tell her.
She shrugs and gives me a dry look. “Don’t make it weird.”
Owen wanders out of his room, rubbing his eyes. “Is today your first day of school, Pops?”
“It is,” she says, handing him a lunch bag. “High school mechanic extraordinaire.”
He grins. “Don’t drop the wrench.”
She laughs, but her hands shake just a little as she takes her coffee mug. “What the heck, Owen? Who taught you that? It won’t be bad. It’s just high school.”
He shrugs. “High school sounds scary. You should see middle school. It’s even worse.”
I snort laugh, shaking my head, and lean in to kiss her temple. “You’re gonna crush it.”
She looks up at me, eyes soft and unsure, and says softly, “I hope so.”
I hope so, too, because she deserves stability, respect, and a room full of kids excited to learn from her. Not the crappy customers she’s been getting who don’t appreciate her. Or her sleazebag dad coming around and stealing from her. That shit is done. He’s not getting anything from her ever again.
“Whoa,” Owen says, eyeing all the food laid out. “What’s all this?”
“First day fuel,” Poppy says. “Eat.”
He sits, immediately digging in.
I watch her fuss over him, making sure he’s got his homework folder, his jacket, and his lunch.
“You all set for practice today?” I ask, taking a sip from my mug.
“Heck yeah. Basketball has been so fun with you and the guys,” he says, swinging his legs in his chair.
I don’t miss Poppy’s expression as she watches him, seeing her happy when he’s happy.
Owen grabs his things and runs down to the truck that’s parked down in one of the bays. “Bye, Ollie! See you at practice!"
“Bye, buddy.”
When Poppy grabs her bag, she pauses by the door. “Okay,” she says. “I’m nervous.”
“I know,” I say. “You’re gonna do great. I’m off today, so I’ll be here if you need anything.”
She bites her lip. “You think we’re doing the right thing?”
“Definitely.”
