Page 49 of No More Love Songs

“Sky,” I whisper her name, placing a kiss on the top of her head and enjoying the feel of her soft, tousled hair against my face. “Time to wake up.”

“Hmmm,” she groans quietly, stretching out before curling back in around me. “Coffeeeeee,” she mumbles in her little sing-song morning voice.

I laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Coffeeeee,” she grumbles again, her voice dropping an octave while her eyes remain shut, apparently in denial of her waking state until I promise caffeine.

“Maybe.” I start to sit up, taking her with me as I do. “If you can make it downstairs in a state that’s at least seventy percent cool, calm and collected and only thirty percent or less, delirious.”

“That’s not fair,” she mumbles, slowly becoming more coherent. “I’m never less than thirty percent delirious. It’s part of my quirky charm.” She smiles up at me, eyes still hazy, though I can’t tell if it’s from sleep or if waking up with me is having the same effect on her as waking up with her has had on me. I’d like to think the latter plays at least some small role in it.

“It’s quirky, alright,” I tease her, bending down to kiss the tip of her nose.

She smiles. “You’re going to let me have coffee.”

“It does seem to be headed in that direction,” I agree, admitting surrender. “Can you be trusted to get up and not fall back asleep if I leave you here, like this?”

“Yes.” She perks up as she says it.

“Because your bed won’t be as cozy without me in it?”

“Because if you leave, you’re making coffee.”

“Damn.”

She grins, wrapping both arms around my neck and pulling me in for a proper kiss. “But mostly because I’ll want to see you again the second you’re gone.”

“I do rate higher than coffee,” I mumble, unable to tear my lips from hers just yet.

“It would seem so,” she breathes against my mouth.

Then, neither us says another word until my second alarm goes off, ripping me out of the best damn thing I’ve felt in a long time, for the second time today.

It takes a text from Ari, reporting from the kitchen on their hunt for late breakfast and coming up short of their desires for chocolate chip pancakes, before I finally manage to climb out of Sky’s bed, move my body independently from hers, and walk out of her room.

I make it down the hall before I spin around and march back in to smack a final kiss on her gorgeous mouth, and then, at long last, I am capable of walking away from her, at least far and long enough to make it down to the kitchen.

“There are only semi-sweet chocolate chips,” Ari announces dramatically as soon as I step foot inside. “And we all know the perfect chocolate chip pancakes require a blend of semi-sweet and white.”

“That’s a fact,” Rat concurs, standing at the counter beside Ari. Both of them are still in their pajamas with hair that looks like the ‘80s rocker ‘do is making a comeback.

While I share their stance on the importance of the chocolate combo, I’m not nearly as emotionally attached to it. “Mavis keeps a hidden stash of every type of chip for baking in the cupboard over the sink,” I say flatly, trying not to put too much attention on the fact I just gave up one of three sacred secrets Mavis has shared with me. About my own kitchen. She has two others she keeps even from me.

“I didn’t know that.” Ari looks stumped. And not at all pleased about it.

“Now you do.” I smirk. “Need me to reach up there for you?” I don’t wait for an answer, just head over to the sink, and start to search the endless stash of packets filled with every chocolate or caramel or whatever chip imaginable until I find the white ones Ari wants. “Here.” I hand it to her and close the cupboard doors again. Best not to let her stare linger on all the crap Mavis has stored up there.

“How many hidden stashes are there in this kitchen?” she asks with narrowed eyes.

“None of your business,” I tease her, moving on to pull down the pancake pan from the hook over the stove while the girls proceed to add the final ingredient to their batter.

“What about asking you where you were this morning? Is that my business?” Ari asks casually as she stirs in the mountain of chocolate she just poured into the bowl.

“I was here.” As soon as I hear it, I know my tone was too casual.

“But where? I looked for you. Couldn’t find you.” She hands the large wooden spoon she’s been using to stir to Rat, who doesn’t hesitate to lick it clean. Then, Ari wanders across the kitchen to the back counter. “Found this though.” She holds up Sky’s notebook, the one she left here in the kitchen this morning.

“Sky forgot it last time we came for coffee,” I tell her as evenly as I can manage. I’m not even lying, so I really don’t know why I’m worried. Or why I think any of this is my daughter’s business one way or the other. “If you recall, that’s who I was with. Because I agreed to help her with her song.”

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