Page 22 of A Very Oceanport Christmas
"They're done!" Sam pulled the top of the waffle maker up and inhaled deeply, drawing the sweet smell of the warm waffles into his nose, no doubt.
"They look good."
Sam grinned. "Wait a second." He arranged the waffles on a plate and scooped whipped cream over the sugary treats before serving them to me. "Try them!"
"Okay. But you should try too." I took the plate over to the table.
"I can't have more than a bite, though," Sam mused. "The alcohol should be mostly gone, but I don't wanna risk it."
I regarded him for a moment. Maybe it wasn't true that he hadn't changed at all. He'd become a little more mature, at least. Not a bad change. "A small piece will probably be fine. You gotta know what you made."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Sam joined me with two forks, one for him and one for me. He laughed. "I hope this isn't gonna be gross."
"If they're gross we can give them to Mr. Miller," I suggested. Mr. Miller lived next door to the parlor. A grumpy old man who'd always complained about us kids making too much noise when we were growing up.
"Oh God, I haven't thought about that guy in ages." Sam dug his fork into one of the waffles and separated a piece from the whole. I did the same. "He's probably just really lonely and unhappy," Sam went on, his tone turning more thoughtful. "I hope I don't ever end up like that."
"No way. Not on my watch." I meant it too. As long as I was around, I would do everything I could to keep Sam from being lonely and unhappy and grumpy.
Sam gave me another smile. "I'm glad I came back to Oceanport. I’ll think I’ll bring Mr. Grumpy some waffles later."
That made me chuckle. "I'm glad you came back too."
"Reserve your judgment until after you've tasted these things. You might still want to throw me out after."
"Like I'd ever throw you out over waffles."
Sam shrugged. "You never know. You haven't tasted my cooking yet."
"You cook?"
"No."
I wanted to roll my eyes at Sam, but couldn't when he looked so happy. "Remember that time we wanted to surprise your parents with cookies and nearly set the kitchen on fire?" I asked instead, the memory sparking in the back of my mind. We'd been so young. I couldn't recall exactly how young, but too young to use an oven for sure.
Sam laughed. "My poor parents have been through a lot." He shook his head. "Now eat up. No more stalling."
"Fine." I lifted the fork to my mouth and chewed on the waffle. Sam mimicked my motions at the same time. "Holy shit, Sam, this is delicious," I said once I swallowed the first bite. It was true, though, and I didn't even normally enjoy eggnog.
Sam's eyes lit up. "Yeah?" he asked as if he wasn't sure I wasn't lying, even though he'd had a piece himself. "I totally had no idea what I was doing."
"Well, whatever you did, I hope you can do it again." I spread the whipped cream over the rest of my waffle and tried a piece with it. The cinnamon made the whole thing even better. The waffle was nice and crisp on the outside and chewy on the inside, bursting with all the flavors that made me think of Christmas. It was perfection. "We totally have to sell this downstairs."
"You really mean it?" Sam beamed.
"Of course I do. You should make another waffle for my dad so we can convince him too, though I'm sure it won't take much convincing. This can be our special for the rest of the holiday season."
"I'm glad you like it. I wasn't sure if I was wasting my time when I could have been helping in the store instead."
I reached over the table to take his hand. "You weren't wasting your time at all!" On the contrary, Sam had spent his time thinking about the things that mattered while I'd half-assed my work-day worrying about that stupid college admission's letter I'd asked Dad to take away. Sitting at this table with Sam, making plans for my family's business with him, I found myself wondering why I'd ever had any doubts about what to do at all. I knew exactly where my place was. Right here, next to the boy I loved more than anything.
What else could possibly be more important?
8
Sam
The waiting room at the doctor's office was crowded. I knew there were reasons other than pregnancy to see this kind of doctor, but I never had, and I kind of imagined that everyone else in the waiting room was carrying a baby the same way I was. Some obviously were. Across from me sat a woman maybe a few years older than me with a belly that looked big enough to pop any moment. A female omega carrying multiples, maybe. God, what must that be like? Involuntarily, I tensed.
