I turn around and head downstairs. Cole looks up from the recliner as soon as I come into sight. He doesn’t move anything except his lips. They form a delicious smile.

“Hey,” I say, my voice soft so as not to disturb a sleeping Ethan on the sofa. “How did things go today?”

It’s a rhetorical question. I was inundated with pictures and videos from both Cole and Ethan throughout the evening. There were images from their batting practice and short clips from the two of them unloading mulch from the back of Lawrence’s truck. Every shot included wide smiles, and that helped me not be so aggravated about the morning’s confusion, something Kirk apologized profusely about. The poor guy. He never makes these kinds of mistakes. He’s been hiding his anxiety about his wife’s appointment so well, but I know the strain and the unknown are eating him alive.

Cole brings a finger to his lips and gets to his feet. He walks to me and greets me with a sweet kiss. The stress of my day melts away as he wraps his arms around my waist. Oh, to be welcomed home in such a way every night. That would be so lovely.

“Come on,” he whispers before leading me upstairs.

We hold hands as he leads me into the kitchen. He releases me and heads to the fridge.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “Ethan wanted spaghetti from a place in Forest Falls. Limoncello? Something like that?”

I close my eyes and grimace. “Yeah. Limoncello.” Only the most expensive place we’ve ever eaten.

“Great food,” he says, completely unbothered by the fact that he paid thirty dollars for my son to have a plate of spaghetti. And I know he paid for it because there wasn’t thirty dollars in the cookie jar. “I got you chicken fettuccine alfredo. Ethan said that was your favorite.”

He takes a container out of the fridge and removes the lid. Then, as if he’s operated in my kitchen a thousand times, he shoves it in the microwave.

I don’t know what my face does, but it makes him laugh.

“What?” he asks.

“It’s just odd seeing someone in my kitchen and having them wait on me.”

“Sit down and I’ll get you a drink.”

What? I really don’t know what to say, so I sit.

The microwave dings. He takes out the container and places it in front of me. Then he busies himself with getting me a fork and a glass of tea.

“How did Parkersburg go?” he asks.

I sigh. “It actually went pretty great, all things considered. I’m glad that I went. We got a number of buses that we desperately needed for inventory. I just started the day off so wonky, and it just set a pattern. I felt like I was off all day.”