“Tilly couldn’t sleep,” he said, nodding toward her. “So we decided to be productive.”
“Good morning, Tilly.”
“We ran out of maple syrup.” She nodded seriously. “And I said it was too quiet at home. And Daddy makes loud eggs.”
Nate winced. “Context matters.”
I blinked. “Loud eggs?”
Nate sighed like a man already on trial. “I crack them one-handed. There might be enthusiasm involved.”
“They sizzle loud too,” Tilly added helpfully. “And he talks to them.”
I laughed, unable to help it. “I support encouraging your breakfast.”
“Thank you,” Nate said. “Finally. Someone who understands.”
She glanced into my cart. “Why do you have so much milk?”
“For work,” I said. “I’m opening the Coffee Cabin soon.”
Her eyes widened. “Where are your whipped cream cans?”
Nate chuckled. “She’s very concerned about things like this.”
I pointed to the stack of heavy cream nestled in my cart. “I make it myself.”
Tilly stared at the cartons like I’d just revealed a magic trick. “Youmakeit?”
“From scratch,” I confirmed.
Her mouth fell open. She looked up at Nate, awed. “She’s fancy.”
Nate laughed, the sound low and soft in the quiet aisle. “I was already impressed. We’re heading to the diner,” he added. “I’m opening in about an hour. My grandma is meeting us later.”
“That sounds like a cozy morning,” I said, meaning more than the word covered.
“It is.” He nodded. And for a second, the grocery store faded into something softer, something warmer.
Tilly shifted her stuffed reindeer higher under her arm and studied me for a long, serious moment. “I like you,” she said decisively. “You smell happy, like flowers and coffee. He thinks so too.” She held the reindeer out for me to greet.
Something in my chest tightened in a way I hadn’t been expecting. I smiled, steadying my voice as I tried to remember the reindeer’s name.Winston? No. Walter. Definitely not Walter.“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I said instead, giving it a respectful nod like we were already on good terms.
She nodded, satisfied, and went back to studying the shelves like she was taking mental notes.
We stood there for a moment longer than necessary, carts side by side but facing opposite directions, the early morning wrapping around us like a shared secret. Then Nate cleared his throat lightly.
“Well,” he said, smiling. “We should probably let you get back to your very important dairy decisions.”
“And you should go make loud eggs,” I said.
Tilly grinned. “Extra loud. With grape jelly!”
Nate’s eyes softened as Tilly bounced in the cart, hugging her reindeer tight. I glanced at him, catching a flicker of gratitude in his expression—something unspoken passing between us. For a moment, we all stood suspended in the glow of the store’sfluorescent lighting, the hum of possibility weaving through the mundane.
“Well,” he said quietly, shifting his grip on the cart, “we should probably get going.”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “See you around.”
