“I wanted to take Ava out for breakfast,” he says.
Whoa. I knew he would visit, but I didn’t realize he meant to come by so early or monopolize my time because—despite what he told me yesterday—there’s no way he popped up merely to say hello to my foster parents. I search his face. Fatigue has etched lines in the corners of his eyes and his mouth. What happened? He sounded fine when we talked last night.
His gaze lands distractedly on Mia in my arms. “Pretty girl.”
My insides freeze. Before I can respond, Darcy pulls Mia away from me, her hands gentle but slightly shaky. “Lucas, meet Mia. My daughter.” The second she’s done, she purses her lips and lifts her chin. Most people wouldn’t pick up on her mood, but I know she’s flustered. She wasn’t prepared to have Lucas see Mia, at least not yet.
Lucas says, “Hi Mia,” even as he glances back and forth between Darcy and Mia a couple of times. My mouth goes dry. No matter how you look at it, the chances of Darcy and Ray having a child as young as Mia are almost nil.
For a moment it looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t…which only unnerves me further. What is he thinking?
“And I’m afraid Ava’s not available to go out to breakfast,” Darcy continues. “She’s eating with us.”
A muscle in Lucas’s jaw ticks. He shifts his weight forward.
“But you’re welcome to join us. I’m sure it’s not too late for Ray to make extra batter for his Belgian waffles.”
Lucas’s visible eyebrow scrunches. “I’m…” He recovers. “Thank you. That would be nice.”
Darcy nods once and goes to the kitchen to announce to Ray that we have an additional guest. I lean closer to Lucas and whisper, “I didn’t realize you were coming this morning.”
“I wasn’t planning to, but I missed you.” He gives me a reproachful look. “You could’ve just told them you can’t eat with them.”
“That would’ve been unbelievably rude since I already told them I would.” I give him an impish smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to charm them, and if everything goes well, we can spend some time together after breakfast.”
“All right. After breakfast, we’re going for a long, long drive far away from here, just you and me.”
Something’s really bothering him, and it puts a damper on my mood. Even though I made tentative plans to have a picnic with my foster parents, I nod. “Deal.”
* * *
Lucas
Breakfast takes place in the dining room. The cherry-wood table is set for four, with a highchair-plus-tray co
ntraption for Mia. I guess that means the girl’s eating with us. The idea is somewhat surreal; I don’t remember dining with my parents until I was old enough to use napkins and utensils properly. Mom has always hated dealing with messiness, and children are inevitably too messy for her taste.
Ray serves waffles, pancakes and crispy bacon with a jug of Canadian maple syrup and a small white pitcher that turns out to have honey in it. He even has a dark navy and orange apron wrapped around him.
It’s odd to see the man of the house cook and serve things. The last time I saw that was when I was eighteen and staying with my grandfather. When he wasn’t busy painting he dabbled in Italian cuisine…and forced us to eat what he made, no matter how badly it turned out.
As for my parents… Dad couldn’t find the kitchen in any of the fancy houses he’s lived in—that’s what the cook’s for. Mom also acted as though she didn’t know how to turn an oven on, even though I’m certain she didn’t grow up in wealth. The only time I see people cook and serve food these days is when I happen to flip by Food Network.
Ava brings out a thermos of hot coffee, while Darcy cuts waffles into small pieces for Mia on a plastic plate. I remain standing, unsure what to do. Mia flutters her fat little fingers in my direction, and I waggle mine back at her.
Ray takes a seat at the head of the table, and his wife takes the place to his right. I pull out a chair to his left for Ava so I can sit next to her and as far away from her foster parents as possible. Of course, this arrangement leaves me sitting opposite the girl. She chortles in my direction, waving her plastic fork around. I give her a small smile, unsure precisely what’s expected of me. Small children are not an area of expertise.
“Try the waffles,” Ava whispers in my ear, dragging my attention from Mia. “Ray’s a great cook. You won’t be sorry.”
I glance at her face, noting the smile. I take a small forkful of waffle and put it in my mouth. It’s surprisingly good.
“How do you like it?” Darcy asks.
“Excellent,” I say. “Better than anything I’ve ever had…and I’ve been to a lot of fancy places for breakfast.”
Ray beams. “Waffles. The love of my life.”
“Other than golf,” Darcy says. “If Ray could make waffles with a four-iron, he’d expire from joy.”