Page 15 of Stay

“Me,” Owen yells.

“Me,” I pipe up.

Sutton carries them to the table and nods toward the coffeepot. “I forgot to mention the coffee and there’s juice on the table.”

I grab a mug and pour a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar before I take it to the table. When I sit in the same spot as I did last night, Owen looks over at me and beams. He takes my hand, something he didn’t do last night, and then takes his dad’s. Sutton looks uncomfortable for a moment when Owen tilts his head for him to take my other hand.

“Uh, right,” Sutton says.

Is that okay?His eyes ask, and I nod.

He holds out his hand and I clasp it, while Owen closes his eyes and says, “Thank you for this food and for Dad who made it and for Felicity who’s living here now…and help us to have a good day and lots of fun and send all the dogs our way. Amen.”

When Owen opens his eyes, he glances at me and leans closer. “On Sundays, I say grace.”

I nod solemnly. “I like it.”

He grins and I can’t keep a straight face when he’s looking at me like that.

“I especially liked the dog part,” I whisper.

“Me too.” He giggles and Sutton groans.

“I can already tell I’m gonna be ganged up on quite often,” Sutton says.

Owen just laughs as he takes a huge bite of pancakes, his gaze meeting mine conspiratorially, and I get warm fuzzies over how sweet he is.

This is already the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

After a delightful breakfast where I try not to stare at Sutton too much and laugh nonstop at all the funny things Owen says, I ask if it’s okay if I make a dessert for later.

“Of course. Do I need to pick up anything from the store?” Sutton asks.

“Can I look in your pantry?”

He grins and holds his arm out. “Have at it.”

I called my mother twice earlier about this pie, just to make sure I really have it right.

“Yes,” she’d said, laughing. “I’ve made it your whole life this way. It’s that simple and it’s right.”

“And I really don’t open the can?” I asked again. “You’repositive?”

“No. You really don’t. I’m positive!”

I find what I need and get started on the pie, making sure the water is high enough and the stove is on low when I put the can in the pan. Then I throw on my coat and boots to go grab my planner from my room when Sutton wants to discuss Owen’s schedule. I’m happy about this—we barely scratched the surface last night. I could’ve put everything in my phone, but I like my massive planner where I write down every minute detail. It’s half-calendar, half-creative journal, pages filled with pictures I love or doodles I draw and quotes I like, but it’s what keeps me on track witheverything. I’m lost without it.

I already haveBreakfast with Sutton and Owenin this morning’s time slot, and when I grab the bag of erasable colored pens that I use to fill in my planner and rush back to their kitchen, Sutton’s eyes widen and Owen says, “Wow, what isthat?”

Suddenly feeling about twelve, I glance at the planner I created. I can never find one that fits all my needs, so I make my own, and now I’m having second thoughts about exposing the level of my need for organization.

Sutton simply goes to the computer sitting at the built-in desk in the kitchen and opens up the calendar, handing me a small sticky note with the Wi-Fi and password.

“I didn’t know you’d be so old school,” Sutton teases, nodding at my planner. “But feel free to also use this computerwhenever you need. I try to make sure all upcoming dates are in here and I’ll add your email too, so you have full access,” he says.

I nod and decide I’ll add all the dates to my planner later.

“Besides wanting to give Grinny more of a break in the afternoons, I have a case coming up that might mean earlier mornings than I’ve had in a while. The bus comes early if I’m not able to take him, but if I have an extra hand getting him on the bus, that’ll help a lot.”

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