Page 14 of Make You Mine

Willow and Chelsea are in the kitchen halfway through some treacle tart, giggling and chatting away when we enter.

“Mommy! Daddy! Did you know Chelsea can balance a spoon on her nose for a whole minute?! Watch!”

Chelsea blushes, laughing softly. “Willow, I’m sure your mum and dad have more important things going on.”

“A whole minute, eh? Impressive. But it’ll have to wait ’til some other time, Widget. Dad’s got a train to catch. I will help myself to one of these coffees and scones if you don’t mind, Chelsea.”

“Oh no, please do. All yours, Mr. Keating. I brought them for the whole family.”

“It’s Declan, Chelsea. No need for formalities.” He grabs a coffee and turns to kiss Willow on top of the head, then moves to do the same to Emmett. I’m last, receiving one on the lips. “Alright, I’m out. See you for dinner.”

I watch his retreating form disappear through the kitchen doorway, then turn back to the breakfast table. Chelsea’s gaze is already on me, a smile coming to her face.

“Sweet you all wake up together,” she observes.

“You’d think that. But this one is on his own schedule.” I stroke gentle fingers over Emmett’s tight coils and he releases a fussy breath as if in offense.

“Let me guess, he’s a hungry one.”

“You guessed correctly. But I don’t mind. He’s out right after.”

“He’s breastfed, then?”

My brows knit slightly as I scoop Emmett out of the highchair, back into my arms. “He is. That obvious?”

“There’s something about the way they settle after. They’re just so calm, like they’ve been drugged with love,” she says with a soft laugh. “I’ve done a few lactation courses in college and helped some young mums at a clinic. You start to notice the signs.”

“Right… well, he’s definitely got an appetite.”

“It’s not easy. But you seem to make it look effortless.”

It’s my turn to laugh as I check the time on the stove and realize Willow needs to get ready for school. “I appreciate the praise, Chelsea, but you’ve been here all of five minutes. Trust me when I say there’s a reason we hired you. Effortless is probably the last word I’d use.”

“Well, I’m happy to help take the load off. Why don’t you have a scone?” She reaches for the bakery box and lifts the lid to show off the blueberry scones glossed in delicious looking vanilla icing.

“Mommy can’t eat those!” Willow says in that candid way five-year-olds tend to divulge info.

A crease forms between Chelsea’s brows as she glances at me. “Not a scone fan, are you?”

“Not exactly. More like I’m diabetic. Type one.”

“Oh…. Oh! I had no clue. But I understand how that is. My mum’s gluten intolerant. I’m no stranger to dietary tweaks. Next time, I’ll ask for a sugar-free option.”

“No need, I got most cravings for sweets out of my system a long time ago,” I say. “Anyway, Willow, finish your tart and head upstairs to change, okay? We have to leave in fifteen minutes.”

The five-year-old nods, picking at the buttery pastry like a little bird. She has a few more bites before she decides she’s satisfied and scoots her chair back to dash upstairs and put on the outfit we’ve picked out for school.

“She’s so well behaved,” Chelsea observes warmly.

“She is,” I say, nodding. “She’s very smart. She reads and writes at the first-grade level. The same for math. It’s been a little difficult for her adjusting to school here, meeting new kids and making friends, but I’ve set up a few playdates.”

Chelsea hums. “I’d be happy to take her to the park and the library in the afternoons. They’ve got a Storytime Hour she might enjoy. Loads of littlies turn up.”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

“And it’d give you a bit of quiet to write, wouldn’t it?”

I pause with Emmett tugging at my hair, thrown for a second. “Um, sorry… but how did you know I’m planning to write?”

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