Page 86 of Pieces

“They’re both lulling you into a false sense of security. Believe me, Rory can’t be trusted,” I say, knowing Rory is listening in.

“I can hear you, loser!” she shouts from the other room, and Daphne giggles.

Once I’ve poured some coffee, I smile, turning to face her, looking at her make-up free face, trying to note any differences, but all I see is how beautiful she looks this morning.

“How are you feeling this morning? Bed comfy?” I ask.

“Bed was great, super cozy after you tucked me in. Did you sleep okay?” she asks. “I kept thinking about you squeezed on that couch and felt so bad.”

“You thought about me last night…in my bed.” I let out a low, whispered groan. “Don’t do that to me, princess.”

Crimson creeps up her neck before settling on her cheeks. She tugs at the hem of my hoodie nervously. “I mean, I didn’t… That’s not what I…”

“Relax, I’m messing with you,” I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then pulling back and letting my hand brush over her stomach for a second. The way she blinks up at me, wide-eyed and still pink, makes me want to kiss her again.“You sure you’re okay? No…” I pause, lowering my voice. “Sickness or anything?”

Shaking her head, she glances at the entrance to the living area. “All good.” She laughs softly, her fingers brushing over the rim of her glass.

I take a sip of my coffee as my mom and Rory join us in the kitchen. “Now that everyone’s awake, I’m going to start prepping dinner because I’ll be behind schedule otherwise.”

Daphne perks up. “Oh, I’m happy to help, Ms. Parker. My mom always had me chopping veggies for Thanksgiving dinner.”

Mom turns to face her with a smile that tells me she likes her already. “Firstly, honey, like I told you this morning, it’s Marlie to you. Any friend of Hudson’s is a friend of mine.” Mom gives me a little glance, and I want to blurt out that she’s more than a friend, but I hold it in for now. “But we do things a little different around here for Thanksgiving dinner.”

Rory snorts. “Real different.”

Daphne’s brow knits as she looks between them, then to me with an unspoken question lingering on her lips.

“On Rory’s first Thanksgiving, she was only a month old. I couldn’t put her down for more than five minutes. She was either feeding, crying, or sleeping on me.” Mom pauses, smiling fondly at the memory. “So, Hudson, bless his heart, said to me, ‘Mama, we don’t need a big, fancy bird. We can just have waffles and chicken, ’cause that’s what you do best, and it’s my favorite.’” She looks at me, her eyes warm and faraway. “And I always kept extras in the freezer. So, that became our tradition.”

Daphne’s expression shifts with excitement. “Chicken and waffles for Thanksgiving?” she asks, her smile growing.

Rory nods enthusiastically. “It’s the best. And you get to eat as much syrup as you want without judgment.”

Daphne chuckles, glancing at me. “I have to admit, that sounds way better than being stuck basting a turkey for hours.”

Mom laughs, her hands moving expertly as she starts pulling ingredients from the pantry. “It certainly saved my sanity that first year, and the kids never let me change it after that.”

“Because why would we?” Rory chimes in, sliding onto a barstool. “It’s waffles. With fried chicken.”

“So, Daphne, do you want to help me make the waffle batter? Hudson usually does it, but he tends to sneak extra vanilla in when I’m not looking.”

“Hey,” I interject, “the extra vanilla makes it better.”

Mom raises an eyebrow. “And yet, you’re not in charge of it this year.”

Daphne steps in quickly, smiling at Mom. “I’d love to help. Just tell me what to do.”

“Perfect,” Mom says, then hands her a mixing bowl. “I’ll show you the family recipe.”

It might not seem like much, just a mix of flour, sugar, eggs, and a little nostalgia, but it’s more than that to us. Mom doesn’t just share this with just anyone. Rory and I were barely trusted with it growing up, and even now, she watches like a hawk to make sure we don’t mess it up. It’s something sacred in our house. So when Mom casually hands Daphne the mixing bowl, it hits me. This isn’t just about waffles. It’s her way of saying,You’re part of this.Even though Mom and Rory don’t know about the baby yet, about what Daphne is already starting to mean to me, Mom is welcoming her in, no questions asked. This is why I wanted them to meet, because my family means everything to me, and she’s a part of that now.

As I watch Daphne laugh at something Mom says, standing here in my hoodie like she belongs, I realize she fits into this chaos so effortlessly; it’s almost like she’s been here all along.

***

Daphne

“Oh my god,” I moan as I bite into the crunchy most delicious fried chicken I’ve ever eaten in my life. Seriously, Marlie can cook, and I’m feeling all kinds of things from one bite of chicken. Except it’s not really about the chicken, it’s for being here in this home that’s so incredibly warm and inviting. My home was the same growing up, and I feel so content here.

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