Bee was smiling in a way that suggested she already had a plan.
“What do you want to do, Bee?” There was amusement in Nash’s voice as he entertained her question. He’d likely come to the same conclusion I had.
She sat forward from where she’d been leaning against the counter, big ideas now animating her hands. Her eyes grew large. “First, a makeover. Then, a basement movie fest, at least five movies.”
My eyes must have filled with terror because Nash put a hand up to stop her.
“Whoa there.That may be a lot for Sybil right now.” He gave Bee a look I couldn’t decipher.
Siblings were something I didn’t understand. Observing them, I found it fascinating. They often seemed to communicate without words, or even gestures. It’s like they possessed an invisible telephone cord running from one to the other.
“How about we start with breakfast?” He looked at me. “Then we can see how we feel after that?”
My eyes trained on him over the rim of my mug.
“Are you hungry?” His brows rose in question.
My jaw clenched. I was famished. One bowl of soup after a whole day without food wasn’t cutting it. But the idea of eating with them?
“What if I made some bacon?” he suggested. “Everyone likes bacon. Can we start with that?” The look on his face was so sincere, so inviting.
I nodded once. I could eat some bacon. Bacon was kryptonite.
He looked pleased.
“Well, then, we’re gonna sit and watch you cook,” Bee announced, but also gave me a similar sincere look as Nash had. “If you’re okay with that? If not, you can duck out, no questions asked.”
I loved that. I felt my apprehension melt away. She’d offered me a way out, and that’s all I needed.
I smiled. “Let’s watch,” I agreed.
She grabbed my arm, did a little trot dance, and pulledme to the opposite side of the center island where four sturdy stools with cushioned seats sat like sentinels. Pulling one out for me beside the one she’d been sitting in earlier, she took my mug and placed it on the counter before patting the stool with her hand.
“Sit and be comfy, my girl.” She slid the magazine toward me. “You can even look at this. Let the gentleman feed us.” Leaning in, she added in a low whisper.“It’s his favorite thing to do, and we can’t let him down.”
I smiled, feeling—something.It was a warm and rich sensation, enveloping me like I’d never felt before—Inclusion?
Bee could not stop beaming.
Bill remained in the kitchen, snaggletooth on display when he saw the package of bacon leave the refrigerator. He licked his chops, sitting like a good boy but scooting around, eyes on the prize.
When the bacon hit the hot cast iron, Bill’s head tilted and his ears perked at the sizzle. Nash looked down at him; the sight of them together melted me right off the stool like an ice cream cone under a heat lamp.
A long, painful yowl echoed down the hall then. Ferrari noises revved up. We all looked toward the sound.
“Brr-wawawrow.”
Mr. Beans came ripping into the room, tail straight up and fluffed out like one of those kitschy dusters maids used. His toes spread, gripping to rug that started just inside the kitchen. He was in F1 beast mode.
My laughter bubbled up unbidden.
Without fear, Mr. Beans yowled again, trotting politely upto Nash. He pawed at Nash’s jeans, claws catching in the fabric where they stuck for a moment before he freed himself.
“He likes bacon,” I offered.
Nash chuckled as his big hand reached down, wrapping around Mr. Bean’s middle as if he were no bigger than a bag of Skittles. He plucked him from the rug, transferring him to his chest, never once having to put down the tongs he used to flip the bacon.
Mr. Beans cried long and loud, licked the shell of his ear, then looked down at the pan. His fluffy tail was snaking back and forth, Nash’s dark shirt now speckled with tufts of loose light fur.
