I can hear Cody’s voice faintly through the phone—low, calm, but with that edge that says he’s trying really hard not to panic.
“Well,” Maureen says, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear, “if she can’t walk or talk through ’em, I’d say she’s in labor.”
She glances at Addison and waves her hand toward the door. Addison’s already moving, grabbing her purse and jacket, but she’s grinning from ear to ear.
“She’s here with me,” Maureen tells Cody. “On her way, alright?” She hangs up, setting the phone on the counter, looking to Addison. “All you.”
Addison practically squeals. “Ah! I’ve been so excited for this!” she says, and before I can even blink, the front door opens and shuts in the same breath.
Maureen laughs, shaking her head. “She’s just excited to play house with Wesley for a few days.”
I laugh too. “Aw, she’s cute. That’ll be fun for them.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Maureen says, rinsing her hands at the sink. “Emma has her moments. But don’t we all? I’m anxious to see how Wesley does.”
I smile, leaning on the counter. “Mason and I should sign up for another babysitting gig. But not all three of them, just one. A full day, maybe.”
Maureen chuckles. “Ella would be dragging you home with her right now if she heard that offer. I don’t know how she does it.” She shakes her head.
“Yeah, her hours seem hard.”
She nods and then turns back to the sink. “You two still wanting to go for it right away? Or is that what this ‘trial run’ talk’s about? Making sure you know what you’re signing up for?”
I laugh, a little flustered. “No, we’re still planning on right away. I just think another trial would be fun, that’s all.”
“Yeah. Well, good,” Maureen says with a smile and dries her hands before nodding toward the oven timer. “Alright, our sauce is good like this; let’s get the chicken started now.”
Chapter 8
Megan
I’ve been standing in Mason’s kitchen for twenty minutes, trying to remember how much flour you’re supposed to use for a breakfast cake.
I can’t find the recipe and my mom’s not answering my texts.
I scoop a few spoonfuls of flour into the bowl, eyeball the sugar, baking powder, few hits of cinnamon, drizzle in some vanilla until it looks right, and start stirring. It’s…thicker than I expected.
I’m debating whether it’s milk or oil that I need to add when I hear the screen door creak and Mason’s boots against the hardwood.
“Hey,” he says softly, voice warm. “Smells good in here.”
“Thanks,” I say, stirring a little too fast. “I’m making something for Cody and Karissa. You know, since they just got home with the baby.”
Gage Maverick was born yesterday. They’re coming home this afternoon and told us to stop by to meet him tonight rather than at the hospital. I’ve been thinking all morning that it would be nice to take something—not just a little gift for the baby and Emma, but something for Cody and Karissa too.
“That’s sweet of you, Meg.” He walks up behind me, sliding his hands around my waist. I feel his chin dip to rest on my shoulder as he looks into the bowl. “What are you making?”
“Breakfast cake.”
“Mm. Looks like it’s gonna be a good one.” His tone is calm, steady, but I can feel him scanning the mess around me. “I got everything you need?”
“Pretty much.” I reach for the carton of eggs, crack one in, and smile when it actually goes well. I pause, glancing at the counter. “Can you grab me the oil? I think that’s what I need.”
He hesitates for a second before grabbing it.
“What?” I ask.
“Just confused about what you mean by youthink.”
