"Sparky?" I asked as she pushed past me to move inside.
"Yep. You're doing renovations?" she asked, looking around.
"The place was a wreck. Those cabinets were a yellow from hell," I explained, waving my hand at the fresh white coat of paint they had on them. It was a temporary fix. They actually needed to get torn out and replaced. But I wasn't sure how long I was going to be there, and it was stupid to sink a ton of money into a place you might be leaving. It just needed to be livable.
"What are you going to do with the floor?" she asked as she made herself at home, putting the food and coffee down on the pop-up table I was using until I figured out a furniture situation. "And the countertops?"
"Probably some kind of tile. On both."
"No," she said, shaking her head as she took the coffees out of the cupholder.
"No?" I asked, smiling a little at the eye roll she did, likely not thinking I would see it with her head ducked.
"You don't want tile on the counter. The grout gets dirty and looks awful. Something solid."
"Is that an offer to come with me to the home improvement store?" I asked, smiling at the way her head snapped up and her eyes brightened.
I knew that look.
And I knew it meant nothing but trouble for me.
And likely hurt for her.
Hope.
That was the purest look of hope I had seen in a long fucking time.
"Well, I can certainly do no worse than tile," she quipped, likely picking up on her own tells, and wanting to cover them.
"What did you bring me?" I asked, moving closer as she pulled food out of the bags.
And, unlike what Bobby brought me, this wasn't wrapped in parchment paper dripping with grease. Don't get me wrong, that shit was welcome after years of awful food in prison. But I couldn't help but wonder what kind of breakfast foods required fancy brown folded takeaway containers.
"Apple-stuffed brioche French toast with a side of breakfast potatoes annnnnd..." she said, digging through the bag for a fifth container, "fruit to share."
"Apple-stuffed brioche French toast with potatoes and you thought fruit was necessary."
"Balance," she said with a smile. "Like how I'm going to hoover all this, have a sensible salad for lunch, then have something cheesy and fatty for dinner. Balance."
"I'm pretty sure that doesn't exactly..."
"Shut it," she cut me off, small-eyeing me as she sat down to open her biggest container. "No one needs that negativity in their lives."
"You mean the truth?"
"Yeah, that shit," she agreed, giving me a smile that I swear lit up my entire sad, dark, dank fucking home.
I opened up the boxes in front of me as she opened the fruit we were to share. I'll be damned, they even had little containers of syrup nestled inside with the three fluffy pieces of apple-stuffed toast. It smelled what a foodgasm sounded like, in case you were wondering.
And the potatoes were extra brown and perfectly seasoned.
And I was pretty sure I gained ten pounds from the one meal alone.
It was worth every last one of them too.
I sat back, hand on my stomach, reaching for my coffee.
"Where the fuck are you putting it all?" I asked as she unfolded and flattened her container. I felt like I was going to burst, and she was smaller than me and seemed to have no such issue.
"I think you forget just how much walking Coop requires in a day. If I don't eat, I will be all skin and bones," she told me as she got up and walked over to my side of the table, planning to fold my container as well.
"Yeah, wouldn't want that," I agreed, reaching up to snag her waist, pulling her down on my lap, my hand sliding up her side to rest at the side of her breast, left without a bra, as I imagined she would be for at least another day or two. "Thanks for breakfast," I told her, my hand moving up to tuck her hair behind her ear so I could see her face better.
"You're welcome," she said, ducking her gaze almost a little shyly, which wasn't a look I was used to seeing there.
"What's..." I started, only to be interrupted as Coop came barreling into the room with one of my shoes in his mouth.
"Coop!" Autumn hissed, jumping up from my lap to chase him around the living room. Which, apparently, he still saw as much of a game now as he used to as a puppy.
"Leave it," I said, shaking my head as I got up, snagging her waist again, and pulling her down with me onto the couch that I had managed to snag at Target of all fucking places. It wasn't the most comfortable thing, but it was furniture, and I had been able to bring it home that day, not wait three weeks for delivery. "It's a work boot. There is literally steel in it. Even he can't fuck those up."