Ava was seated on a stool at the counter with her knees tucked in to her chest, sipping on a mug of coffee. The mug was one of her aunt’s trademark creations, solid yet delicate with a watercolor-blue glaze and a rounded rim. She sold similar ones in her store and on Etsy for thirty dollars apiece.

“Morning,” Olivia said, heading over to her sister. On the way, she passed by Coco, her aunt’s full-of-herself cockatoo, who was on a perch between the kitchen and living room, feeding on a long spring of asparagus that she held in one foot. Olivia paused to run one finger along the two smooth, gray front toes on the bird’s perched foot. “Morning, Coco Puff.”

“I thought it was just Coco,” Ava asked.

“It is,” Aunt Becky answered. “But she seems to like Olivia’s nickname. I even heard her repeat it the other day.”

Aunt Becky was dressed in the sleeveless tee and cutoff sweats she wore under her button-down potter’s cape, and her dark-gray hair was pulled back in a bun. Knowing her aunt liked best to work in the early hours of the morning, Olivia’s best guess was that she’d already been at the wheel for a few hours.

Coco responded to Olivia’s attention by bobbing her head and raising her crest to a half salute. A previously one-owner bird who wouldn’t tolerate anyone’s touches aside from Aunt Becky’s, Coco had grown to like Olivia enough that she tended to squawk at her when she walked in the room until Olivia paid her a bit of attention.

After offering Coco a fresh spring of asparagus, Olivia plopped onto the stool next to Ava. She ran her tongue over her lips, mulling over why they were so chapped until she remembered all the kissing she’d done yesterday. Her heartstrings tugged at the memory of the perfect lips she’d gotten a taste of. Please let him call today. Please, please let him call.

“I thought we were going to have to wake you.” Aunt Becky flipped the row of meatless sausages in the frying pan.

The oven was on, and Olivia could smell something else in the air, a hint of rosemary possibly. She hoped it was her aunt’s perfectly roasted potato wedges. They nearly made up for the lack of eggs in this place.

“What time is it?” Olivia stretched wide, yawning.

“Almost ten.” Ava set her mug on the butcher-block counter and slumped forward.

“I haven’t slept in this late in years.” Olivia looked at her aunt for confirmation as to whether or not she knew why Ava was here.