Page 35 of Deception & Daylight
“Never met a breakfast food I didn’t like. How can I help?”
“I’ve got it. You can sit your cute butt down at the island and keep me company.”
“Not a chance. Besides, I could use a cooking lesson. If your pancakes are anything like Rosie’s, I might just beg you to adopt me.”
“Rosie taught me everything I know. And you’re already stuck with me, Maggie.”
With Lucy’s guidance, I attempt to pour and flip a pancake, but the first one ends up looking somewhat like a hockey puck and there’s a faint charred smell wafting from the pan.
“The first pancake is always crap. Give it another try.” The next one isn’t much better, but Lucy is nothing but patient with me, and it makes me wonder if my own mother would’ve been anything like her. It’s hard to imagine someone married to Arthur Watson could be anything but cold and calculating, but it’s possible he became hardened after he lost his wife. Dad never liked to talk about mom, but I’ve seen photos and she had a warm smile —mysmile.
Each pancake gets a little better, but in the end, there are more failures than successes. Eventually, I concede defeat and hand the spatula over to Lucy, lest we run out of batter. “Gordon Ramsey, I am not.”
Lucy laughs and pulls me in for a side hug, before pouring another dollop of batter into the pan in a perfect circle. “Keep practicing and it’ll become second nature.” Leaning against the counter, I watch in awe as she makes the most gorgeous fluffy golden brown pancakes I’ve ever seen. “That’s it. I’m just gonna have to stay forever and let you spoil me rotten.”
“Say the word, sweet girl. I’m sure Miles wouldn’t mind one bit.”
Miles
The next morning, I find Maggie in the kitchen with my mom, plating a massive stack of pancakes. They’re laughing, and there’s a lightness about her that’s been absent since she showed up here. It’s that same laugh that drew me to her all those years ago. “Don’t just stand there, Miles. Set the table!” Ma says, wielding the spatula like a threat.
“Yes ma’am,” I respond, chuckling softly at her playful tone. “Did I miss the breakfast invitation?”
“Oh please, you practically live here these days.” With a knowing smile, she carefully adds another pancake to the already impressive stack, then saunters over to the fridge, the cool air whooshing out as she opens it, returning with a package of plump, red strawberries and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. “I wonder why that might be,” she adds, winking at Maggie, who’s standing at the island with a bottle of Canadian maple syrup.
Mags’ cheeks flush, and an adorable smile breaks across her face.“You’re a troublemaker, Lucy Barlow.”
“You would know. I passed that trait onto my darling son,” she retorts.
With mock indignation, I pull out some plates and glasses before heading into the dining room to set the table.
Maggie follows close behind and deposits the platter of pancakes in the center with the bottle of syrup and mom’s antique butter bell. The moment her hands are free, I steal a quick kiss before letting her go. “What was that for?” she asks.
I give a shrug. “Wanted to kiss my girlfriend good morning.” Without another word, I walk back to the kitchen, leaving her stunned by the simplicity of my statement. There’s no pretense anymore — not for me. Maggie needs to know I want her, and I’m willing to wait as long as she needs.
After a pleasant breakfast, Maggie and I work in tandem to wash the dishes. She hums quietly, and I lose myself for a moment as I watch her silhouette. She hands me a freshly washed plate, our hands brushing ever so slightly, and her gaze lingers on where we’re connected. I clear my throat and dry the dish, placing it back where it belongs. The next time she reaches into the sink, she lets out a cry of pain, swiftly bringing her soapy hand out of the water to assess the damage. There’s a minor cut along her ring finger, and she sucks it between her lips. I hand her a clean dish towel. “Here, wrap it up and go sit in your spot. I’ll be right there.”
“I’m fine, Miles. It’s not that serious.”
“Humor me.”
She rolls her eyes, and I watch her begrudgingly comply with my request. I drain the sink, then grab the first aid kit from the cupboard. When I stride into the sitting room, Maggie’s in the window seat with the towel still wrapped around her finger. She’s surrounded by a halo of light creeping in through the bay window, illuminating faint copper highlights in her hair and golden flecks in her irises. I almost want to take a picture to capture the moment, but I’m reminded of my task when she peels back the towel to check her wound.
I kneel before her, gently resting her hand on my thigh. “It’s a bit soon to be proposing,” she says with a smirk. “But I suppose it would be par for the course in our friend group.”
I shake my head and grab a bandaid from the kit, wrapping it securely around the maimed finger. Before I can think better of it, I bring it up to my lips and kiss it better as I would’ve done for my nieces. “How’s this for a ring?” I quirk a brow, and Maggie lets out a bark of laughter. “That would be a hard pass for me, Barlow. It’s not even shiny.”
“Got it. I’ll see if Ivy can spare one of Rylin’s rainbow glitter bandaids next time.” Her lips tip into a small smile, and she carves out another piece of my heart with her name on it.
Lifting myself off the floor, I follow her line of sight to one of Ma’s bird feeders. There’s a squirrel perched on the edge with its cheeks puffed out, and Maggie giggles softly as it attempts to shove more food into its impossibly full mouth.
I need to get to work, but I find myself lingering just a little longer, studying her features; the slight upward curve of her nose, the freckles across her nose and cheeks, and the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.
She meets my gaze, and her smile is finally directed at me. There’s a sparkle in her eyes that was missing before, and I feel compelled to etch this moment into my memory. Something shifts in my chest, and it feels like she’s seeing me for the first time.Not the man who broke her heart, butme.
I straighten up and glance at the clock on the wall. “I should get going. We’re working at the ranch house today, and Ivy’ll have my ass if we don’t get the main floor done soon.”
“I wouldn’t want to be on the tail end of Ivy’s scorn. See you later?”
