Page 116 of The Plan

I feel the bed move, and then the light is shut off. Sire climbs back in, and after a few minutes of silence, he says, “Hey, Vid?”

“Yeah?” I feel him move a bit, like he’s turning to face me.

“Thank you.” I lay in silence for a while, trying to understand what he’s thanking me for. Maybe he means for not saying no to us or for reminding him the crash wasn't his fault.

“For what?” He takes a while to respond, and I start to think he fell asleep.

“Everything.” His voice comes out with what sounds like a yawn, and I let out one of my own. My eyes fall shut, and while thinking of whatever “everything” is, I fall asleep.

An alarm goes off, jumpingme out of my sleep. The smell of something burning fills the room, and I quickly look around the bed, but Isa and Sire are gone. I grab my phone in case I need to call for help if it’s an actual fire and walk out of the room.

When I turn the corner, Sire is fanning the fire alarm with a pillow, and Isa is doing the same, but she’s so tiny that she’s just fanning the wall. I can’t help but chuckle at the sight of them and the messy kitchen.

Sire looks over at me and then slouches his shoulders with a frown. “We wanted to make breakfast in bed for you. I’m sorry we woke you.”

Before I can reply, Isa runs to me and hugs my leg. “Good morning, Vidia! We’re making you breakfast because Sire says you have something important to tell him.” I look up at Sire, and he runs a hand through his hair uncomfortably.

I didn’t think he'd take it literally when I said, “I’ll sleep on it,” but he’s obviously expecting my answer today. I smile at both of them but don’t respond to her and tell them I’m going to brush my teeth.

When I walk back into the kitchen, most of the mess is gone. The egg yolk is wiped off the counter, along with the pancakebatter. I take a seat next to Isabelle, and Sire makes a smiley face with whipped cream on top of her pancakes.

When he’s done making her food look cute, he turns to me. “Good morning, beautiful.” I just woke up and definitely don’t feel all that beautiful, but with the way he's smiling at me, I believe him. He hands me a plate. My pancakes also have a smiley face, but there are eggs and bacon on the side, unlike Isa’s plate.

“Good morning.” I take the plate from him with a small smile. “Thank you.” I go to dig into my plate but stop myself because Sire isn’t sitting with us yet. I grew up being told it’s rude to eat without everyone at the table, so I wait for him, and when he takes a seat next to me, I take a bite of my pancakes.

My eyes widen slightly at the taste. I stuff my face with a bit of everything and close my eyes. “Mm, this is really good.” I should’ve taken him up on his offer to make me breakfast weeks ago.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” I look over at him, and he shrugs as if the apartment doesn’t smell like it’s still on fire. “Isa wanted to make her own breakfast.”

“And you let her?”

He shrugs again and takes a bite of his pancakes. “She said she’s a big girl, and she is. I like to let her be independent.” I can't tell if he’s joking or not, but I don’t think he is.

“So you let her use the stove and burn the food?”

“How else would she learn?” He takes a bite of his bacon as if letting a small child use the stove is okay.

“She’s four, Sire.”

“And a half!” I look down at Isabelle between us, forgetting she was there, and her face is covered with whipped cream. “May I have more whipped cream, please?” I glance at her plate; she hasn’t touched her pancakes yet. All she ate was the whipped cream.

“Yes, you may.” Sire reaches for the whipped cream, but I stop him.

“No, you may not.” Jackson called to remind him not to let her have a sugary breakfast. Her pancakes are practically drowning in syrup. I look back over at him with challenging eyes, and he doesn’t object.

“Sorry, Isa, but the boss has spoken.”

“Awee, please?” I turn to her, and she pouts her lip. When I look at Sire, he’s already looking at me for a response, but I don’t change my mind.

“No means no, and your dad is the one who said no.” I try to put some of the blame on her dad so I’m not the complete bad guy, and she lets out a huff, obviously used to getting her way with Sire.

He widens his eyes a bit and, under his breath, says, “Jeez, at least we know who’s going to be the strict parent with our kids.”

I choke on a piece of bacon as I register his words. I almost argue that I could be a fun parent but stop myself because he saidourkids. I take a drink of my orange juice and try not to make it obvious I heard him.

“I have ballet. We need to go!” Isa tries to climb off her chair, but Sire stops her.

“We’ll go when you finish eating.”

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