But they take hours, which I don’t have today. But I do tomorrow.
That still doesn’t answer the question of what to make him today.
My doorbell rings.
After Darrel’s little surprise, I turn on the security camera before opening the door.
“Creed, is everything okay?”
“Just fine.” The boy gives me the biggest smile ever. “My dad got in the mood to cook this giant breakfast today. There’s no way the two of us could eat it. Would you like to join us?”
How did his eyes turn huge and pleading? That’s impossible. But the cute evidence is standing right in front of me. “I wish I could. I haven’t had a chance to make anything for you to eat yet.”
“That’s okay, we have tons. Come on, Dad is waiting. He made this frittata with a bunch of vegetables just the way you like it.”
Oh, did he? “How does your dad know I like vegetables?” So far, he’s only seen me eat half a cake and buy chips and cheese. None of those screams healthy.
“Dad notices things. We can’t be late or the food will get cold.”
Creed is totally conning me. He knows it. He knows I know it. Why in the world am I letting him lead me over to his house?
Because you want to see Havoc. And you want to know if that moment was real or if it was all your imagination.
It had to be my imagination.
“Dad, we’re here.”
It’s the moment of truth. Was this all Creed? Or did Havoc want me to come over?
On the bar in the kitchen is a little bud vase that wasn’t there the last time. It has a couple of roses and spider mums in it.
The man standing by the stove is dressed, not just wearing his pajamas, but fully dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve Henley. How can he look this delicious this early in the morning?
He turns to towards us, and a slow smile spreads across his face as our eyes meet.
I’m in so much trouble.
He Did It!
Havoc
I doubted Creed. He seemed so convinced that he would be able to talk her into coming over that I played along.
But Greer is standing in my kitchen, smiling at me.
It shouldn’t feel this right to have her here, but it does.
What do I say? Because walking over and kissing her is what I want to do, but is not an option. Instead, I just stand there grinning at her.
“Hey, Dad, is the frittata ready?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Greer, what would you like to drink?”
“Tea, if you have it.”
“Tea?” Creed’s probably staring at her like she has three heads.
