Page 9 of Sunshine & Sinful

Curling onto my side, facing the vacant side of themattress, I tug Sunshine’s pillow from its home and hug it tightly against my chest.

It does nothing to lessen the ache there.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” I repeat until my lids grow heavy and the sandman pays me a much-needed visit.

FOUR

The front door opens, and the blinds rattle, alerting me of a visitor. The thud of shoes tossed unceremoniously onto the floor, followed by the familiar sound of a bag dumped, draws a smile to my lips as an exuberant, red-faced, dark-haired beauty races around the corner into the kitchen and catapults herself onto a stool.

“Good afternoon, Lily.” I chuckle as she guzzles down her after-school apple juice and wipes the remnants across the back of her hand like an adorable Neanderthal despite there being a napkin beside her snack plate.

She offers a bright, toothy smile before digging into a turkey and cheese sandwich on slices of freshly baked bread I picked up at the local bakery after I worked a handful of hours this morning at Dark Delicacies, going over wine inventory and making a quick stop to the apartment to ask Cell to do some digging on Dark and Sunshine. It’s what I planned on asking her last night, but I forgot to ask before I left. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t pry. Just offered a polite nod and an even politer, upbeat, “On it, Boss Lady.” Have I mentioned how much I love Cell? In case I haven’t, she’s amazing.

It’s finally Friday.

Another after-school day to spend with Lily.

Since I returned from California, we spend every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon together. The weekends are based on what I have planned. Lately, apart from time with Todd or the shop, there hasn’t been much. Lily is always welcome to participate in the rest of the stuff I do around here—from cleaning to tea making to caring for the plants and flowers in the greenhouse. For safety reasons, I keep her away from the dangerous plants that grow in a different section of my favorite outdoor space, but the rest are up for tending to. It seems to soothe her as much as it does me.

Hip resting against the island, arms tucked loosely over my comfyDark Delicaciessweatshirt, I wait for Lily to finish her snack. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she didn’t have breakfast or lunch, but I know from asking her that’s never true. She’s in the middle of a growth spurt and growing like a weed.

She chomps three bites from her sandwich, filling her cheeks like a chipmunk.

“Smaller bites. We’re in no rush,” I remind her, not for the first time this week.

“I-wown,” she mumbles around a mouthful.

I arch a mom brow, the effective kind that has my kids, birthed or not, straightening up and acting right before I enact the dreaded mom voice or, even worse, mom actions. Nobody likes those, especially Fog and Tarek.

Lily finishes chewing and swallows before trying again. “Sorry. It’s yoga and plant day. My favorite day.” She bounces excitedly in her seat.

I chuckle.

Yoga and plant day are my favorite days, too… usually.

When I don’t fall asleep after a home invasion and wake up riddled with anxiety, worried about how today might go now that both of the bikers in my life are back in town.

When I padded out of my bedroom this morning, I half expected to find Sunshine or Dark in my home or, at the very least, knocking on my door shortly after dawn. But nothing happened. After last night's craziness, it was anticlimactic, in a good way.

Seated at the kitchen island, wrapped in a blanket, I sipped a hot cup of breakfast tea and checked the long text threads I missed from yesterday. They weren’t anything out of the norm. There have been no new texts today—not even one. That’s unusual, but I’m not holding my breath for it to last long.

This feels a lot like the calm before the storm.

I’ve been riding the razor’s edge all day, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Lily’s company couldn’t have come at a better time.

“Plants or yoga first?” I ask the sweetest, almost nine-year-old.

Picking up her floral napkin, Lily wipes her mouth and crumples it into a ball. “Can we do yoga in the greenhouse?” She smiles as if that’s the best idea she’s come up with yet. I have to hand it to her she’s one smart cookie.

“Hmmm.” I press a finger to my lips and pretend to be deep in thought. “Yoga in the greenhouse.”

Knowing I’m being silly, Lily giggles. “Yess,” she sings out of tune, tossing her balled-up napkin onto her empty plate.

“Wellll…” I rub my hands together. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

Lily pumps her fist in the air but says nothing as she climbs off her stool, puts her trash in the bin, and sets her dishes in the sink for me to wash later.

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