Page 110 of Better Late Than Never

Quinn nudged my elbow. “Thanks. We could’ve made it work, but it’ll make the rest of the trip less stressful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grinned. “Just means you boys are doing the dishes for the rest of the time you’re here.”

They both groaned, and Savannah cackled.

“Good luck with that, Connor,” she said to me. “I can’t get Quinn to?—”

“Oh, that is such a lie.” He rolled his eyes. “The only dishes I don’t do are the glasses you leave all over the apartment.”

I chuckled. “I’ll believe it when I see it, kid.” I clapped his shoulder. “How many times did I have to ask you to load the dishwasher when you were a teenager?”

He just huffed and shook his head.

Landon snickered, and I shot him a look.

“Don’t you start,” I said. “Or did you finally learn toemptythe dishwasher without being asked?”

He took on the same playfully petulant expression his brother had.

“That’s what I thought.”

We all shared a laugh over it, and a moment later, the shopkeepers handed us our rugs, which they’d bundled into tiny packages wrapped in plastic.

After that, our guide announced that we were heading to lunch. He led us out of the shop and up the street, then into a second-floor restaurant with couches and leather stools instead of chairs. We were treated to an amazing meal of b’stilla, which were the puff pastries Alex had told me about that were stuffed with spiced chicken and topped with cinnamon and sugar.

“These should not be this good,” Savannah said as she started on her second one. “How is cinnamon and sugar on a chicken dish this awesome?”

“Think we can make them at home?” Quinn peered at his as if he were trying to mentally reverse engineer it.

“There’s probably recipes online,” she said. “I took a picture of the menu, so we can look it up when we’re back online.”

Quinn nodded and took another bite.

I’d have to figure out how to make these, too. I was no wizard in the kitchen, but as good as these were, I’d find a way.

“Okay,” Landon said, dusting some powdered sugar off his lip, “I am officially in love with Moroccan food.”

“Same,” we all said, because hell yeah.

They drank more of the mint tea during lunch, and so did I. The boys were forever turning up their noses at the teas that Aimee and Savannah drank, and I’d never been much of a fan either, but this stuff was seriously good.

So was being here with them. Trying new food. Exploring a new country. Just being together as a family.

Still, it felt like someone was missing.

The logical answer was that Aimee was missing. Even though we were divorced, this was our family. It still caught me off-guard sometimes to realize she wasn’t there.

Except… her absence wasn’t the one that kept prodding at me.

Gazing at my sons and Savannah and our beautiful surroundings, I couldn’t help thinking…

Alex should be part of this.

It was too soon for that. We had some professional obstacles we’d need to clear first. Once Alex was retired and we could openly date, then we’d see what happened.

But deep down, I was sure that Alex belonged in this family.

CHAPTER32

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