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Bryan’s head snaps up.
Oops, that cat is out of the bag.
“When and where,” he asks, his gaze on his son, “did this reading take place?”
Peace’s cheeks turn almost red enough to match the candy-cane stripes on her pajamas.
“There, Dad.” Bo points to the cushion in the window. “Peace reads really well.”
“That’s good, I guess.” Bryan gives me a look with a raised brow.
I shrug. I don’t see the problem, except that they were up past bedtime.
“Did you know about this?” Shaina scoots closer to me, sloshing my coffee when she bumps my shoulder.
I switch my mug to my other hand. “Yeah. I actually think it’s cool.” I throw my arm around her.
Her lush lips flatten. “But he’s a boy.”
“They’re just kids, sweetness.”
But I give it more thought, recalling how Bryan and Lace were tight around that age, and how that turned out.
“Harmony is going to get her feelings hurt.” Shaina’s brows draw together as she looks at our daughters.
I guess I can see what she means. With Peace and Bo sharing his headphones, that leaves her sister out. Harmony doesn’t appear to be too happy about that. She is accustomed to being the center of Peace’s world.
“Harmony will be all right. She has tons of friends,” I point out. “Peace just needs one person outside the family who she feels understands her.”
After all, Bryan was all I needed back in the day.
“Can I sit here?” I ask Harmony at breakfast.
“Sure, Dad.” A pink hoodie covering her hair, she scoots over on the long but crowded bench at the table to give me room.
“Thanks.” I set down my plate that’s loaded with applewood smoked bacon and three of Shaina’s cinnamon rolls. My mouthwatering from the rich butter and cinnamon aroma, I dig in and glance around.
Shaina is sitting in the chair at the head of the big rustic farm table. It seats twelve normally, but it looks like we’ve squeezed in everyone this morning but Hope.
“Where’s your daughter,” I ask King.
“She gulped down one of her healthy concoctions for breakfast and went back to her room.”
“Ah.” I nod.
I’m not looking forward to my daughters being Hope’s age and avoiding me like she seems to be doing with her parents.
I polish off one entire cinnamon roll, then focus on Dizzy. “You hear from Justin Jones lately?”
“Wished him a Merry Christmas early this morning.” Dizzy sets his orange juice down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Neanderthal, here.” April gives him a napkin.
“Why you asking?” Dizzy’s brows rise.
Yeah, I guess it’s an unusual question from me since Justin Jones is Avery’s twin brother. A long time ago, he took my place in the band while I worked out my shit. When I returned, I made it pretty obvious I wasn’t happy about that.
“I’m wondering if Justin might want to jam with us, maybe add a bonus track.” I shrug like that offer isn’t a big deal, but it is huge.
