Page 153 of Closer

I move in for another slow, deliberate kiss before disengaging and taking a seat at the kitchen island.

He sets a plate laden with pancakes before me, topped with fresh berries and whipped cream. “Dig in.”

My stomach rumbles in response, and I take the first bite. It’s perfect. “Delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Here.” I offer him a bite, and he takes it.

It’s so cute that I offer him another one.

His eyes narrow. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Eat.” I wiggle the fork in front of his mouth, and he relents, taking another bite.

“Princess, I have my own.” His eyes slide to the plate beside the stove.

I halt. “You’re eating breakfast?”

He nods, getting the plate and settling beside me.

“You don’t eat breakfast.”

“I do now.”

I take a sip of water, trying to hide my smile, and we fall into a comfortable silence. After we’re done, Sebastian gets ready for work while I stay put in the kitchen to say goodbye.

He rushes in doing his tie. “I’m gonna be late today, so don’t wait up, okay?”

“Oh, okay.”

He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “Love you.”

“I hate Mondays. Can’t you stay here?”

“I’ll try to get off early, but I can’t make any promises.”

“It’s fine. Love you, too.”

He gives me one last kiss before leaving me alone in the apartment.

I spend my day off baking cupcakes, the air in our apartment filled with chocolate and sugar. After sliding the last tray into the oven, I set the timer and wander into the library.

My sewing machine calls to me, and I settle into the chair, running my fingers over the smooth surface. I thread the needle and guide the fabric under the presser foot.

The steady hum of the machine lulls me into a trance, and I fall into an easy rhythm, the fabric gliding through my fingers. It’s soothing, almost meditative.

The scent of muffins wafts into the library, and suddenly, I’m transported back in time. I’m a little girl again, perched on my mother’s lap as she guides my hands under the sewing machine tracing a butterfly.

“Like this,” she says softly. “Nice and steady.”

I can feel the warmth of her body, the gentle pressure of her hands on mine. The same scent of cupcakes fills the air, and I know there’s a batch cooling on the counter, waiting for us to frost them together.

I hear her laughter and see the sparkle in her eyes as she looks down at me with love and pride. Dad leans down, giving us each a kiss on the cheek.

The oven timer dings, jolting me back to the present. I blink, tears rolling down my cheek. I’m crying, but I’m smiling, too.

That’s the first time I saw her happy. It’s a bittersweet feeling, the ache of missing her mingling with the warmth of the happy memory. But I’m grateful for it.

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