She frowned. “Why?”
“Because, whether you like to admit it or not, I know you. You loved Skyhawk when your dad was alive. Now you hate it and everyone and everything around it.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“So what are you doing?”
She shrugged, trying to avoid his eyes. He had always seen too much. He did now with her. More than physical attraction, it was part of what had made them such an incredible couple: they knew one another. They understood their different family dynamics. They’d respected one another’s thoughts, shared explanations...
“Kind of late, but would you like some coffee? Soda, water? I may have something stronger, a beer maybe?” she suggested.
“Let’s have coffee,” he suggested.
“Uh...okay.”
He led the way to the kitchen. Apparently, she hadn’t changed much of anything through the years. She had a new coffee maker with all the bells and whistles for just about any kind of coffee someone might like, but it sat right where the old one had with the pods in a little drawer attached to the machine.
“Regular with a hint of cream?” he asked her.
“Yeah. Black?” she asked in turn.
“Yeah. I guess coffee tastes don’t change through the years.”
“Oh, but they do!” she protested. “I sometimes enjoy an espresso, straight and strong, and on occasion a vanilla latte.”
He didn’t respond.
“And you?”
“Espresso, black.”
“Well, it’s something,” she murmured.
She headed to the refrigerator, getting cream for her coffee. He’d made hers first, so she added cream to her cup while he put through a second.
“Got any food?” he asked her.
“I’m not sure I invited you to dinner...”
“Dinner was hours ago. It’s going on breakfast. I’ll settle for—”
“You always were hungry. You must have the metabolism of a hummingbird.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
She sighed. “What do you want? Yes, I keep food here. I know... I have cheese grits and shrimp in the fridge from yesterday, should still be good.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll just microwave a dish—”
“No, I’ll heat them up on the stove,” he said casually. “Hey, Hank always hated the microwave—said it was giving us weird brain waves. I’m not antimicrowave, just learned that a lot of things heat up better on a stove.”
“Knock yourself out,” Sky said. She opened the refrigerator again, digging out the container with her leftovers. She handed it to him. “There’s quite a lot there. I placed an order and didn’t realize I’d ordered the family size until I got home. They didn’t have that kind of ordering before the pandemic years, but during that time, I guess they learned that people decided they liked picking things up to take home.”
He knew to look in the lower cabinet next to the stove for the frying pan.
Sky thought that she really needed to change up her life a bit.
“Where’s your mom, by the way?” Chase asked her. “Is she coming to the concert?”
“She wasn’t planning to. She’s in Ireland with her sister. They’re doing a whole heritage kind of a thing. But...”
“Now that she knows you’re going to be taking on your dad’s role, she wants to come?”
Sky sighed. “Yep. I told her she’s heard me all her life. That she knew Skyhawk all her life. She doesn’t need to come.”
“Did you argue her out of it?”
Sky shrugged. “I hope!”
“Ah, which leads to a further question.”
“I didn’t think you came just for shrimp and grits.”
“Cheaper than a restaurant,” he said.
“Right. Like you need to worry about that. Just what are you doing now? Working in some kind of lab somewhere? Never seemed like you.”
