“It’s okay.” Lifting her hand, I kiss her palm before setting it back down on my thigh.
Lennon worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “I feel bad.”
“Don’t.”
“Breakfast is ready.” Mom places two pans of cinnamon rolls on the table, and everyone else takes their seats.
For so long, it’s just been the four us at family dinners, or in this case breakfast, and I’ve never felt like anything was missing.
Until now.
Seated between Lennon and Nova with my parents across from us, the room feels full—whole. More than it ever has before.
Nova dives into her cinnamon roll with a fervor only a five year old can possess while my mom takes the opportunity to fill us in on the adventures of their camping trip.
With a fork in one hand, and Lennon’s fingers wrapped in the other under the table, I get lost in conversation and the quiet simplicity of the moment.
After breakfast, I unpack Nova’s bag from her weekend away and toss her dirty clothes in the washer. Then I walk into the kitchen and stop short at the sight of Lennon standing at the sink. Nova is perched on a chair next to her, and they’re both laughing.
Seeing the two of them together like this is overwhelming. In a good way. My feet and legs ache with the need to walk to them and wrap them in my arms, or just be a part of their conversation. But they need this time. If I want Lennon to be a part of our life, they need to get to know each other, and judging by the smiles, it’s going well.
Widening my stance, I prop my hip against the doorjamb and settle in for a little eavesdropping.
“What’s your favorite color??
??
Lennon shoves her hands in the soapy water. “Purple. What’s yours?”
Nova taps her chin and holds her finger straight up in the air as though a light bulb just went on. “Pink. What’s your favorite food?”
“Definitely pizza. You?”
“Macaroni and cheese.”
Lennon nods, rinsing a plate before handing it to Nova to dry. “Good choice. Favorite princess?”
“Ariel.”
“I’m going with Elsa.”
Stacking the plate on the counter, Nova cocks her head. “Elsa? But she doesn’t have a prince. Every princess needs a prince.”
“Maybe she just hasn’t found her prince.” Lennon hands Nova another plate.
Wrinkling her nose, Nova contemplates and then shrugs. “Well, when I find my prince, he’s going to be handsome and smart and have lots of tattletoos, just like my daddy.”
Lennon chuckles. “Oh yeah?”
Oh, hell no, he’s not!
“What are you doing?” Mom whispers, walking up behind me.
“Shhh.” I point to Nova and Lennon.
Nova nods like a bobblehead. “And he’s going to love to clean.”
Lennon laughs. “Why’s that?”