Page 46 of One Pucking Secret
“Does your mommy sleep in on the weekends?” I ask while we measure out flour and eggs on the counter.
“Sometimes.” He chuckles, a sound that seems too big for his little frame. “I just read books and play until she wakes up.”
“That’s good,” I reply, a chuckle of my own joining his. The scent of batter begins to fill the air, warm and inviting.
As we cook, the sound of pancakes sizzling fades into the background, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The tension between Chloe and me has been simmering for so long, but as I watch Jasper carefully pour the batter onto the griddle, something shifts. It’s time to let go of the anger, time to forgive her for trying to protect him. They deserve a fresh start, and maybe I do, too.
The last pancake lands with a soft plop on the stack, steam curling up like a morning stretch. The kitchen smells like butter and pancakes, a scent that feels like forgiveness dipped in maple syrup.
Chloe shuffles in, her hair a tousled auburn nest, flannel pajamas hanging loose over her frame. She rubs sleep from her eyes. “What’s going on here?” she mumbles, more to the world than to us.
“We decided to make some breakfast,” I say, sliding the plate onto the island.
“No way.” Her voice is still thick with sleep, but her eyes light up at the sight.
Jasper grins, all teeth and pride. “What do you think, Mommy?”
“I can’t wait to try them.” She peers over at me. “I’ll make some coffee,” she says, padding toward the counter.
“Jasper, why don’t you help me set the table?” I suggest. He nods eagerly, fetching plates with careful hands.
“How do you take your coffee?” she asks as she takes out a container of creamer from the fridge.
“Black is fine,” I tell her, and she peers over her shoulder, silently questioning my coffee preference. I chuckle under my breath.
Creamer flows into her mug like a pale swirl of clouds into a clear dawn sky; she sets our mugs down with the precision of ritual.
Once she has a seat, I set the plate down I made especially for her. It contains all theperfectly fried pancakes, without a hint of burned edges.
“These are amazing,” Chloe says after her first bite, genuine gratitude painting her words.
Jasper’s gaze flickers between us, a question in his blue eyes. “Wyatt, what are we doing today?”
“Thought I might teach you how to ice skate,” I say.
“Really?” he gasps, the word a puff of excitement in the chilled air of the room.
“Sure thing, kiddo.” My chuckle is low and warm, matching the glow in his eyes.
“Make sure you eat plenty, Jasper,” Chloe instructs him, maternal command in her tone. “You’re going to need the energy.”
I watch Jasper attack his pancakes like they’re the final period of a tied game, syrup dribbling down his chin. And in this small, sunlit kitchen, we’re all winners.
About an hour later, once our stomachs are full and we’re all dressed for a day at the rink, the car hums along the streets, Jasper’s excitement palpable in the backseat as cityscapes give way to the open expanse of the arena parking lot. “He’s always wanted to learn,” Chloe says, a wistful smile touching her lips.
“Good thing you left it in the hands of a pro,” I shoot back.
Shehuffs—a mock show of indignation—but her laughter is a melody that dances between us, soft and inviting. I throw in a wink for good measure, and for a moment, she’s caught off guard, her cheeks flushing a lovely shade of rose before she mirrors my flirtatious grin.
I park in one of the reserved spots close to the entrance. I’m the first to step out of the car, heading straight for Jasper’s door.
“Ready for some fun, champ?” I ask, reaching over to unbuckle his seatbelt.
Jasper nods eagerly, bouncing in his booster seat. “Yes, I can’t wait!”
My heart swells at his excitement. “That’s good to hear. We’re going to have a blast.”
As Chloe comes around, I lift Jasper out of his booster seat, setting him down on the ground.
