Margot
I wake up on the edge of the bed, momentarily confused where I am.
But when I open my eyes and see who I’m sharing the bed with, all is right in the world.
Sunlight begins to filter through the cracks in the blinds, casting golden rays of light over the bedroom. I watch as one falls over Amelia’s eyes, setting her bright blonde hair aglow with light. But she scrunches her face up and rolls over, pushing her face into Boone’s chest.
He responds in kind and curls his body slightly to cocoon her, subconsciously trying to make sure that she’s safe.
Ever the hero, even when sleeping.
When the quilt begins to move, I notice that even Crockett has climbed into bed with us. He must have been snuggled up by Amelia’s legs like a needy puppy. And when she moves closer to Boone, he too wants to get in on the action.
I watch Crockett drag his chubby little body closer to my daughter, wedging himself in the middle of her and Boone, resting his head on one of her arms.
I could never have dreamed my life could be so perfect.
What have I done to deserve this?
I’m tempted to roll over and join them, but I’m the kind of person who stays awake once she’s awake. I can’t help myself.
But I can lie for a little while longer, watching my two angels as they sleep and rest up. I can’t be the only person who thought last night was intense. I bet both of them need their rest.
I wonder what Boone’s dreaming about.
Watching him, I get the impression that this is the first good, uninterrupted night’s sleep that Boone has gotten in days—if not weeks. It’s a relief that he’s taken the news of having a daughter and our crash-landing back into his life so easily.
I would have felt so guilty if our presence had just continued to hurt him in any way.
But when he thinks that no one can see him, he looks happy.
He’s cuddling Amelia and Crockett like he is drowning and they are his last life lines. I don’t want to interrupt the three of them, and I feel my stomach begin to grumble, asking for food. Despite how intimately I got to know the pantry, I’m still not entirely sure what Boone keeps down there.
But I’ll bet there’s something I can use to rustle up a special breakfast—as Amelia likes to call it.
I can’t help but wonder what Boone will make of it. He doesn’t instantly strike me as the type of guy who would enjoy blueberry waffles with maple, chocolate, or—sometimes and—strawberry syrup, alongside fresh fruits styled in the shape of a face.
Yeah, I don’t imagine he’s the kind of man who likes super sugary breakfasts, but he and I know that it’ll put a smile on Amelia’s face, so really, it’s all worth it.
I climb out of bed, ready to head downstairs. But before doing so, I cast one lingering look at my family—whole again.
In the past couple of days, Boone’s gone from having no one to having a whole family—if he chooses to have it. My mind flashes back to Amelia’s question last night—she’s clearly besotted with him, and Boone clearly loves her. I’ve always known that Boone Masters would make a great father—if his parents would ever let him live in peace.
What are they going to do when they find out?
As if on cue, my phone begins to ring.
I’m pouring a cup of coffee as it begins to vibrate on the counter. I let it buzz once, twice, debating whether I really want to answer it. It almost feels like talking to anyone from the outside world might break the spell we’re all living in.
But then I realize it’s my mom, and I have to answer it. I can’t abandon her at brunch and then ignore her phone calls, too. Plus, she might be able to help me.
“Hi, Mom. I still won’t be able to make it to brunch today.”
My mom laughs on the other end of the phone.
“I guessed as much. No, I was just checking in to see how everything’s going.”
“You mean, how I’m coping being around Boone again?”
She’s never liked to beat around the bush. Static keeps cutting through her voice, and once again, I’m not sure how long this phone call will last.
“I just don’t want you to rush into something that could hurt you.”
I know that my mom means well, but over the past few days, I’ve realized that being without Boone is what hurts the most.
“Mom, I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to worry.”
“What does Amelia think about all of this?”
“Amelia loves Boone, and he adores her. We’re almost like a real family.”
“So Boone knows she’s his daughter?”
“Yes, and I think he wants to be her dad.”
I can practically hear the cogs in my mom’s brain ticking. After our phone call two days ago, I don’t think this is what she was hoping for.
“I’m happy for you, honey. I really am. But I just want you to be careful. Like I said, when you come back to New York, you’re going to have a chat with your father…”
The crackling in her voice becomes louder. I don’t think we have much time left.
“Yes, I know, you said. But what about you, Mom? You can’t keep me in the dark like this.”
“It’s not my place to tell you, sweetie.”
I sigh down the phone. For a moment, I don’t care if she can hear my frustration. Why can’t my mom just be happy for me?
“I just want you to be safe. There was a reason why Boone left New York.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, Mom. He left because of the fire department. He lost his whole team, and the survivor’s guilt just ate him up.”
“Honey, no—” her voice begins to break and fade though the receiver, “tt-there’s more—”
“Mom?” I raise my voice slightly and hold the phone closer to my ear. “Mom?”
But she’s gone. The call cut out, and I’m left alone—again—wondering what it is she knows, especially about Boone and the fire department.
What does my mom know that I don’t?
I’m certain that Boone told me everything.
So what does my mom know that he doesn’t?
I try not to let what my mom said—or didn’t say—play on my mind too much as I walk down into the pantry. Now that I’m not pressed up against it, having one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of my life, I have the chance to be blown away by the amount that Boone keeps.
I would have thought that, as a bachelor in the mountains, he’d barely keep enough food for himself. But this pantry holds enough to feed the whole town.
Hopefully, it’ll be enough for Amelia.
I carry the ingredients back to the kitchen. I even manage to find the unopened box of a waffle iron. I set it up and start to get the plates hot, relieved that I didn’t have to try and remember how to make pancakes instead.
I’ve almost finished mixing the batter when I hear Boone’s heavy footsteps on the stairs. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and runs a hand down over his beard to catch the wild, unruly hairs. I watch him as he comes around the corner.
I dip my finger in the waffle batter, holding it out for him to taste. Boone crosses the kitchen and takes my wrist, holding it as he sucks the batter from my finger, never once breaking eye contact.
“Good morning,” I say before he places his other hand on the counter behind me, pinning my body against the work surface.
Then Boone kisses me.
He holds my cheek in one hand, and I grasp onto his arms as he captures my mouth with his own. I feel myself melting into the kiss, almost wishing he’ll take it further—we have time—and then he pulls away, smirking.
“Good morning, Margot.” Boone grabs a cup from the cupboard and begins to pour himself a cup of coffee, too. “What can I do to help?”
“You…you can start cutting up fruits so that Mr. and Mrs. Waffle can have eyes and a nose and a mouth,” I tell him, trying to catch my breath after that kiss.
Is he going to do that every morning?
I could live with that.
By the time Amelia comes down the stairs, all of the sauces and the fruits are ready, arranged on the table for her to see. She’s carrying Crockett in her arms like a newborn baby but drops him the moment she sees the bottle of maple syrup.
Boone and I watch as her little face lights up, and she runs towards us.
“Special breakfast!”
“That’s right, princess. We’re having special breakfast.”
Amelia barrels into our legs, one arm wrapped around each of us. I laugh and look at Boone.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.