Page 83 of Bringing Home the Bacon
Today is the monumental day we bring our bacon bits home.
When we exited the car a moment ago, Bacon asked if I wouldn’t mind taking a quick detour into the restaurant before heading upstairs to the nursery. I’m exhausted, and my nipples are threatening to break off with the epic amount of breastfeeding I’ve been doing, but he looked too excited by whatever he has planned that I couldn’t bear to tell him no.
The restaurant doesn’t open for lunch for another hour, so it's fairly quiet when Bacon leads me into the space. All I can hear are the faint sounds of the kitchen staff in the back and the occasional clink of silverware while the front-of-house staff sets the tables.
“Alright. First thing’s first.” Bacon stops us in what feels like the center of the space and puts something in my hands.
“What is this?” I ask. “The menu?”
“Take off the blindfold,” he encourages.
“It is the menu.” I scan it and don’t see anything out of the ordinary. “I don’t get it. Did you update some of the dishes?”
“No.” He laughs. “Look at the top, will ya?”
“Cassie and Danny’s Place,” I read out loud, then it hits me. “Oh, my goodness. You changed the name of the restaurant? Are you allowed to do that?”
“I’m the owner. I can do whatever I want.”
“Sure, but won’t it cause confusion? You’ve been open for a week with the original name!”
“Turns out Bacon Bits was confusing for people. They assumed it was one of those chichi places that only served one thing. Plus, I thought this was a more effective way to celebrate the twins. I would have suggested it right away, but someone told me announcing babies’ names before they’re born is bad luck.”
“Bacon, this is incredible.” I kiss him, then whisper to our sleeping babies cradled on their father’s chest. “Did you hear that Cassie and Danny? You have your own restaurant.” I give them a quick kiss on their tiny bald heads and look back up at Bacon. “So it’s official, then?”
He nods. “As you saw, new menus are already printed. A press release is going out this morning, and our new outside signage will arrive this week.”
“Amazing,” I say, completely in awe.
“Think you can handle one more surprise? Well, possibly two, depending on how you look at it. Actually, I guess it’s technically three. You know what? No. I think it’s four.”
“What are you talking about?” I laugh.
“Remember that small back room we weren’t entirely sure what to do with? We thought it could be used for private parties, but it’s not quite big enough?”
“Bacon, yes. I’ve had baby brain these past few weeks, but I haven’t forgotten whole conversations about your business!” I playfully scold.
“Our business,” he corrects. He’s always doing that, making sure I know that whatever is his is mine as well. “We’re a team.”
“Yes, we are,” I agree.
“Well, I found a use for it. Should I blindfold you again?” He hesitates. “Nah. Just come back here with me.”
He takes me into the back room, and what I see honest-to-god takes my breath away.
The entire room is lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, just like the ones he had back in his New York City apartment.
“Bacon…” I breathe. “Is it a library?”
He smiles. “Sort of, yeah. I thought it would be nice for people to have a place to relax and read with their kids after their meal. This wasn’t all me, though. Bella was instrumental in setting this all up.”
“I’ll be sure to thank her. But how did you get all these books?” I marvel.
“We have Gran to thank for that one. She posted a TikTok asking all her followers to donate books to us. Boy, that lady is getting a lot of traction on that platform. Anyway, the donations just keep pouring in. The adult section is here…” He gestures to the left corner. We’ve got mysteries, thrillers, romance, biographies, fiction, non-fiction… you name it. And the kids’ section is over here.” He points at the far wall filled with brightly covered children’s books. There are even plush chairs and tiny reading lamps creating the perfect child-size reading nooks.
“This is so—I can’t believe you—” I don’t finish my thought because what I see next literally makes me weak in the knees.
Bacon steadies me and guides me to a simple wooden table where at least a hundred copies of my children’s book are placed in neat stacks. Beside them, a small silver cup filled with black permanent markers stands at the ready.
