already been boiled.
“Oh, are you making bagels?” She came over to peer into the boiling pot.
“Yeah, I thought I’d bring some over to Mason,” I replied. “He’s been holed up in his house working on his kitchen all day.”
He got the keys yesterday, after which he’d dragged me over to, um, christen his master bathroom. There was no furniture yet, so he’d returned to the inn later in the evening, and this morning before I went to work, I’d seen a delivery truck outside his house. Turned out, everything he’d ordered for his new kitchen had arrived. Now his front yard was a dumping ground for all the old cupboards he’d torn out.
I’d foolishly assumed he’d have someone else fix his kitchen, but Mason had looked almost offended at the idea.
“You’ll save some for me, right?” Aurora asked. “I’m eating carbs again.”
I side-eyed her and fished out the next batch from the pot. “Did you give them up?”
“Well, I tried.”
I shook my head. “You are perfectly healthy, Aurora. Don’t wreck your body, please.”
She chewed on her lip. “Linda called Jess a chubby chaser for hanging out with me.”
I stared at her incredulously. “She what?” My fucking God, as much trouble and gray hairs Brady had given me, raising a girl was ten times harder, because I had to navigate through threads of bullshit comments online all the time. Aurora might think I gave her space on social media, but I checked every damn post she was tagged in. Girls her age were so vicious. Just last year, when her hair had been shorter, that little bitch—Linda, a girl in her class—had asked when her gender transition would be complete. “I’ll call her mother,” I said firmly. “If she thinks she—”
“No! What the fuck, Mom.” Aurora looked at me, horrified. “Don’t do that. Promise me you won’t call her. It’ll just make shit worse.”
I put my hands on my hips.
I had to do something.
She flushed and fidgeted under my gaze. “Matt is helping me, okay?”
My mouth formed a silent “Oh.” Because damn, this was a surprise. Sweet Matt, who William considered his stepson nowadays. Matt, Kelly’s eighteen-year-old son. Matt, who viewed Aurora as a kid.
I was very glad he did, of course, but in a few years, their age difference wouldn’t be significant at all.
“I didn’t know you two talked,” I noted, returning to the bagels. If I wanted her to share more information, I couldn’t look like I was ready to corner her.
“We don’t,” she said quickly. “I mean, not really. He overheard me trying to calm Jess down from a rage fit about it. Matt said he’d teach me some good insults.”
Oh…kay. I mean, sure, yes, that was… Yeah. That was how teenagers were going to solve that kind of problem, and I knew very well that talking it out like adults had no place in their world.
“As long as you don’t escalate things,” I settled for saying. “Standing your ground is good. Don’t let some vapid little c-word push you down, but don’t lower yourself to her level.”
Aurora snickered. “C-word. Anyway. That’s not why I came down here. I wanted to ask if I could spend the night at Jess and Jaylin’s house. Their dads are in Seattle for some Halloween thing, so they have the house to themselves.”
“Hmm.” Halloween or not, it was still a school night. “Will Nathan be home?” He was Jess’s older brother. A kind, mature, responsible boy.
“I think so, yeah.” She shrugged.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, but let me talk to Bennett first,” I decided, referring to Jess’s father. Then I caught a flash of green on the street and glanced out the window. Oh, how precious. “We have a baby Hulk and…some sort of witch incoming. Can you give them some candy? I left the bowl in the hallway.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Aurora left the kitchen right away.
I still couldn’t believe someone had indicated that Aurora was chubby. I hated what the world had come to in terms of body image. Just because her ribs didn’t show and she was developing some lovely curves, she was suddenly overweight.
Fuck that nonsense.
I stifled a laugh and winced when I looked across the street to see Mason opening the door for a couple Halloween trick-or-treaters. He was sweet as hell and squatted down to their level; it had to be very young children. Maybe three or four years old. And he engaged with them like he genuinely enjoyed chatting to them, but he was no longer handing