Ben dissolves into giggles, and my eyes fill with tears.
God, I haven’t heard him that happy in so long.
“It’s time for me to cook this thing.” Win picks up Ben from the chair and crouches in front of him. “The stove is hot, so I’m gonna need you to sit here ready to decorate the plate with fresh strawberries so we impress the heck out of your mom. It’s a big job. Think you can handle it?”
I smile, appreciating that Win has Ben at the dining table and not beside the hot stove while he does this part. But also while making Ben’s part seem like the most important.
Ben nods firmly. “I can do that.”
Win ruffles his hair. “Good job.” He carries the bowl over to a stainless-steel skillet on the stove. After turning on the heat, he adds butter to the pan.
Ben watches Win ladle batter into the hot skillet from his chair at the dining table. “Mommy never has bananas in her pancakes. Are you sure it will help her tummy?”
“We mashed them up,” Win says. “There’s some ginger as well, and that will help her feel better. She won’t taste the ginger with the cinnamon, vanilla, and chocolate chips we put in, though.”
They are both so damn sweet.
Win flips a golden, fluffy pancake onto a white plate and then takes a small dish of thinly sliced strawberries to the dining table. “Now it’s time to work your magic,” he says dramatically.
Giggling, Ben gets to work arranging sliced strawberries around the pancake while Win returns to the stove to ladle more batter into the skillet.
When Ben starts talking about carrying it up to my room, I move away from the doorway, wanting to stay and enjoy watching them some more, but I’d ruin their surprise if they knew I was down here.
I tiptoe up the stairs, peel off my robe, and climb back into bed, pretending to be asleep when my door swings open about ten minutes later.
“Mommy?” Ben calls out.
Yawning extra loud, I sit up in bed. “Yes, baby.” I feign surprise when I see the wooden tray Win is carrying, with a short stack of pancakes topped with sliced strawberries and chocolate chips, a small white jug I’m guessing holds maple syrup, and glasses of water and orange juice. “Wow! What is all this?”
Ben walks in beside Win, looking extra proud. “We made breakfast for you.”
They must have talked about this in the diner yesterday when I was in the restroom. Ben probably told Win that he was worried about me being sick, and they planned this breakfast for me.
Win sets the tray on my lap. “How’s your stomach?”
“A little unsettled, but I think I can manage a little breakfast this morning. If I don’t finish it, it won’t be because it isn’t delicious. It smells amazing.”
Win sticks his hands in his pockets. “It was Ben’s idea. He wanted to do something nice for you since you weren’t feeling well, and you always make sure he has all of his favorite foods when he’s sick. I was happy to help out a bit.”
As if he didn’t do the bulk of the cooking. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s to make you feel better.” Ben scrambles onto my bed, thankfully not moving around so much that I wind up with a mess in my lap.
“Thank you, baby.” I kiss him. “It looks delicious.”
Ben peers over at Win. “Are you going to kiss Win, too?”
I stare at Win. “Ummm…”
“He did more than me.” Ben bounces his gaze between us.
Win shifts from foot to foot, redness sweeping over the apples of his cheeks. “It’s okay, you don’t have to?—”
“It’s okay,” I gently cut in. “Will you please get a little closer so I can thank you properly for making me a special breakfast that I’m not sure I deserve?” I glance at the tray in my lap. “I’d move it, but I’m almost guaranteed to make a big mess.”
Moving hesitantly despite my invitation, he pulls his hands from his pockets and sits on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure?”
“It’s okay,” I say, voice low, in case he feels like Ben is bullying me into this kiss. “Thank you for my breakfast, Win.”
