Valentine by Samantha Young, now you can read online.
Jocelyn and Braden
Braden threw back the rest of his coffee. “I need to go.”
“You haven’t even had breakfast yet.” I frowned at the scrambled eggs and toast I’d made him.
“I’m sorry, babe, I’m late for this meeting.” He put his mug in the sink, leaned down to brush my lips with his and then rounded our kitchen island to kiss Luke and Beth on their foreheads. “See you all tonight.”
“Bye Dad!” they yelled after him as he hurried out of the kitchen. Luke immediately eyed the scrambled eggs Braden had left.
“Are you kidding me?” I snorted. My six year old had just eaten cereal, two slices of buttered toast and a handful of raisins for his breakfast. “Where do you put it?” I scraped most of the scrambled egg onto my plate but gave him the rest.
Luke frowned at the disproportionate portioning. “How come you got more?”
“Because she’s got a baby in her belly, silly,” Beth said with a superiority she liked to lord over her brother whenever she could. If she weren’t also incredibly overprotective of him and willing to play with him despite their three-year age gap, and not to mention charmingly adorable, I’d call my eldest an unbearable smartass.
That’s just what happened when two smartasses procreated I guess.
“Don’t call your brother silly,” I reminded her.
Beth sighed heavily, like she was ninety instead of nine. “Sorry. I’m just cranky because of this Valentine’s Day stuff at school.”
She also talked like she was ninety. That’s where the charmingly adorable part came into play. “What Valentine’s Day stuff?”
“We have to make a card for someone today and then give it to them.”
I bit back my laughter. “Well, baby, that’s what you do when you make a card for someone. You give it to them.”
“I don’t have to make a card,” Luke said with a mouthful of scrambled egg.
“Remember talking rule number five.”
He swallowed and grinned at me. “No talking to people dressed as Santa when it’s not December because it’s not really him because he’s in the Northern Pole and it’s a stranger portending to be Santa.”
“The North Pole,” Beth corrected him. “Pretending. And that’s rule number seven.”
I wrinkled my nose at my daughter. “You are cranky today, Miss Wite-Out.” I turned back to Luke. “Rule number five is no talking with your mouth full.”
He stuck his thumb up as he chewed, letting me know he got it.
“Back to you.” I leaned across the island and tucked Beth’s soft hair behind her little ear. “What’s the problem with the card thing?”
She shrugged. “What if I make a card for Aaron and he doesn’t make his for me?”
Aaron was this adorable kid a full head shorter than my kid who followed her around like a puppy dog and had done for the last year. They were ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’.
“I’m one hundred percent positive that Aaron will make his card for you, and it would be sad if he made a card for you and you didn’t for him. He’d be really upset.”
Beth stared at me, processing this like it had world importance, which we all knew at that age it kind of actually did. “Okay. Better feeling silly than hurting his feelings I s’pose.”
And another reason I adored my kid.
“Beth, you know you don’t have to make a Valentine’s Day card for anyone if you don’t want to, right?”
She nodded. “I want to.”
“Okay.” I looked at Luke who’d finished his scrambled egg and was now sitting with his head propped on his hand, his eyes half shut. “Oi, Narcoleptic Cool Hand Luke, let’s get you to school before we lose you to the land of nod.”
His eyes didn’t open all the way.