Page 132 of When the Stars Fall
“Does that mean you want me to stay?” I sat on the stool next to Noah’s and filled my plate with food, sending the message that I had no intention of going anywhere. I poured Noah’s syrup for him, already knowing from experience that his pancakes would end up swimming in syrup if he was left to his own devices.
“What do you mean by stay?” she asked, playing coy as she speared a strawberry and guided it to her mouth.
“You know, so I’ll be on hand to cook your breakfast every morning.”
“Oh.” She gave me that sly smile. “So you want to be my short-order cook?”
I grinned. “For the sake of keeping this PG, that’s exactly what I want to be.”
“There might be a job opening.” She shrugged. “But I have other applicants to interview.”
What a joker. “I can already guarantee that they won’t have my qualifications.” I gave her some jazz hands. “Like my magic hands, for instance.”
She shook her head and ate her breakfast, her cheeks flushed. As much as I appreciated seeing Lila in a fancy dress and fuck-me stilettos, this was the look I loved best on her. Messy bun with a few stray locks of hair framing her face, no makeup, and wearing a faded blue T-shirt that used to be mine.
“Nice T-shirt.”
“Oh, this old thing? It’s my ex-boyfriend’s.”
I scowled at her. She just laughed and bit into a crispy strip of bacon.
“Your mommy’s a comedian,” I told Noah.
“What’s a median?”
“Uncle Jude thinks I’m funny.”
Noah’s brow furrowed. “You’re not funny.”
That made me laugh.
“Is Uncle Jude funny?” Lila asked.
Noah stuffed a forkful of pancakes into his mouth and thought about it for a minute before he nodded. “He tells funny pickle jokes.”
Lila groaned. “Oh God. Not the pickle jokes.”
I bumped Noah’s fist. It was sticky with maple syrup.
Just as I was thinking that Sunday mornings with Lila and Noah were my favorite thing in the world, my newfound happiness was destroyed by a knock on the door followed by the sound of boots crossing the hardwood floor.
“Lila! Noah!” he boomed, effectively wreaking havoc on our peaceful Sunday morning.
“Daddy!” Noah jumped down from his stool and launched himself into Brody’s outstretched arms.
“Hey little man.” Brody lifted Noah into his arms and gave him a big hug. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too.”
“Noah, come back and finish your breakfast,” Lila said. “Hey. We weren’t expecting you this early,” she told Brody.
“Yeah. I can see that.” Brody set Noah back on his stool and completely ignored me as if I wasn’t even sitting there. I returned the favor.
“We made pancakes!” Noah crowed. “You want some?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He grabbed a strip of bacon, shoved it in his mouth, and helped himself to a cup of coffee. He knew which cupboard to find the mugs in and made himself right at home, pulling up a stool next to Lila. Driving home the point that they were comfortable with each other.
“How did you do?” she asked Brody.
