Page 90 of Forever To Me

“One,” I tell her.

Mack brushes her hands off on her jeans, giving Rip one last scratch behind the ears before heading toward the house. Rip and Pickles trail behind her.

I linger behind, taking it all in.

The barn. The land. My daughter laughing. My dog’s happy. Violet’s dog here. Everyone is happy.

Life doesn’t get much better than this.

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t want it to change.

When I enter the kitchen, it smells damn near illegal.

Garlic, butter, basil—a mix of everything good and holy in this world.

I step inside, and Violet is at the stove, stirring a pot of what I can only assume is the best-smelling pasta I’ve ever encountered in my life.

She’s barefoot, her hair piled up in some messy twist that’sbarely holding together, a smear of flour dusting her cheek. And she looks… happy.

Maggie is perched at the kitchen table, wine in hand, watching Red like she’s witnessing a miracle.

“Do you know my niece can cook?” Maggie asks, eyes wide, like Violet just pulled off an exorcism. “I mean, really cook?”

Violet snorts, shaking her head. “I literally just threw together some ingredients.”

Maggie waves her off. “I thought when you said you were cooking that you meant, like, ‘making boxed mac and cheese without burning the house down’ kind of cooking.”

Violet rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Nope, that’s you Aunt Maggie.”

Mack, hovering way too close to the garlic bread, sniffs the air dramatically.

“This is next-level, Dad,” she declares, nudging me. “You better prepare yourself. Our standards are about to go way up.”

I cross my arms, smirking. “Oh yeah?”

Mack nods seriously. “Yup. Your cooking? Not gonna cut it anymore. You and Maggie are fired.”

Maggie gasps, clutching her chest. “Excuse me?”

Mack grins. “You literally tried to microwave eggs once, Maggie.”

Maggie narrows her eyes. “I was experimenting.”

Violet laughs, pulling the bread from the oven, and the smell alone has me questioning everything I thought I knew about life.

“Alright,” she says, setting the food on the table. “Eat before Mack stages a mutiny.”

Mack grabs a slice of bread before the plate even fully touches the table.

“Oh my God,” she groans, eyes rolling back dramatically. “Violet, this is insane.”

Red smirks. “Good insane?”

Mack gestures wildly at the bread. “I never knew garlic bread could taste like this.”

Maggie takes a bite and actually moans.

“Don’t expect this kind of food in your nursing home,” I tease.

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