She steps closer, one hand sliding over my shoulder as she leans in to kiss my cheek.
"Love you," she says casually.
Like she’s reminding me the weather exists.
"Love you too," I say.
Three months ago that sentence would have knocked the wind out of me.
Now it feels like breathing.
Natural.
Necessary.
Mine.
Daisy trots past us again with the bacon.
Maddie gasps.
"She’s eating it!"
"It’s gone," Natalie says, peering over the counter. "Moment of silence."
"For my breakfast," I mutter.
Maddie grins.
"Dad lost to a dog."
"This house has no respect for me," I say.
Natalie takes a sip of coffee.
"You’re dramatic."
"I’m hungry."
"Both can be true," she says.
Maddie points her fork at me.
"Are you both coming to my hockey practice today?"
"No," I say. "We’re canceling because your father was victimized at breakfast."
She narrows her eyes.
"That’s not a real reason."
"Feels real to me," I say jokingly.
Natalie opens the fridge, pulls out the backup bacon she bought after learning we live with thieves.
"Good news," she says. "I planned for male incompetence and canine crime."
"Really, male incompetence? More like very big dog. You're very disrespectful for a woman wearing my hoodie."
