Page 51 of That First Flight

Both men stand up and grab their jackets, ignoring both Peyton and Avery’s protest in leaving them alone. Except, I can’t see either of them winning this argument and actually going to Logan’s apartment because these girls have these guys wrapped around their fingers.

“It was so nice to meet you, Macey.” Thomas gives me a goodbye hug. “Thank you for dinner. It was perfect.”

“Sorry we have to rush out of here.” Marc hugs me next. “I agree with him. Dinner was perfect.”

“Are you heading out too?” I ask Oliver.

“Nah.” He laughs as he makes his way to the kitchen to start doing the dishes. “They have it handled.”

The girls hug me and say their goodbyes and warmth fills every part of me when they squeeze me like I’m officially their new best friend. A group of people I just met a few hours ago, hugging me goodbye. This might seem so minuscule to people but having no one hug me for so many years other than my daughter, it’s like being wrapped up in a warm, heated blanket.

And these people mean it.

They love with their whole heart.

They accept me just the way I am, confirming even more that I think I’ve found the place I want to permanently call home.

“Can wepleaseeeehave breakfast for dinner?” Mackenzie begs.

“Of course.” I can’t help but laugh. Doesn’t she realize I will give her whatever she wants, whenever she wants? “What did you want me to make?”

“Iwant to make my famous French toast.” She beams. “I haven’t made it since we moved here and this kitchen is screaming for me to make it.”

She’s right, this kitchen begs to be cooked in any chance it can.

Next to working in a five-star restaurant, this kitchen is a dream.

“Alright, babe. You’re on.” I take a seat on the bar stool. “Show me what you got.”

“Yes!” Mackenzie pumps her fist in the air as if she’s succeeded in persuading me.

She asks Echo to play songs by Taylor Swift and within seconds, theReputation (Taylor’s Version)album blasts through the speakers that Oliver has placed all around. It almost sounds like a concert here when they go off.

I watch as she dances through the kitchen, pulling out the pan she’s going to use before she pulls out her ingredients. If anyone ever found out my eight year old is using a stove and cooking French toast, I might get some judgment again.

But she’s good at it, and I fully trust her.

Besides, she has so much life in her lately and I’ve never seen her happier than she is here in this new environment.

“Samuel called me this morning to ask how my first week of school went,” she says as she pulls a loaf of wheat bread out of the pantry.

Guilt creeps into my chest because I haven’t called either Samuel or Flora since I’ve been here. They’ve played such a pivotal role in my life in accepting us and helping us get our feet on the ground, and now it’s been almost three weeks since we left Roxbury and I haven’t called them once.

“I feel terrible I haven’t called them yet.”

“He knows you’ve been busy getting ready to interview for your job.” She shrugs. “I miss watchingFriendsand his TV shows with him each night, but I don’t miss that school. I love it here.”

“That makes me so happy.” I force a feeble smile. “They were really good people to help us out. We’ll have to go up there and visit them sometime.”

“That’s what I said to him! He said they will make a trip down here one day soon to visit wherever you get a job. He said he wants to see the best chef in the city work her magic. His words, not mine.”

I offer her a soft smile. “I have to get the job first.”

“You’regoingto get the job, Mom. I think everyone knows this but you. Duh.”

I laugh at that.

But I also hate myself for it.

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