“Either that or her body will go into caffeine withdrawals,” Lexie joked with a lightness that held a note of sorrow. My girl was being strong.
There was silence for a moment, the sizzling of the bacon the only sound in my small kitchen. I contemplated announcing my presence, but there was a peace in the silence between them, a companionable silence. I was loath to interrupt the sight of Zane doing such a domestic task as cooking breakfast, chatting to my daughter. It looked so natural. Don’t asked me how my little girl in her owl-printed PJ’s and a huge biker covered in tattoos, both standing in my kitchen looked natural. It just did.
She peered at him over her coffee cup, still not seeing me. “Do you believe in Heaven, Zane?” she asked on a broken note.
I choked up at the pain behind her small question. I almost pushed off the wall and gathered her in my arms. Zane was quicker than me.
He moved the pan off the burner and turned to face Lexie. His hand moved to cup her face lightly.
“Not sure about God, girl. Don’t believe in something that would cause so much pain to people that deserve a lifetime of happiness,” he stated roughly. “But I do believe those people, those good people, go somewhere better, somewhere they deserve,” he continued quietly, eyes on Lexie.
She stared at him, blinking rapidly. “You think Steve and Ava are there?” she asked quietly with almost childlike desperation.
Zane moved his other hand to cup her face. “Know it, darlin,’” he promised.
She smiled weakly at him, then her eyes flickered over to me.
“Mom!” she cried out, setting her cup down.
She ran over to me and into my arms. I embraced the warmth of my daughter, and rested my head on her shoulder. My eyes met Zane’s, something passing through the two of us that I could barely swallow. I didn’t get to think too hard on it before Lexie pulled back, her red eyes searching mine. She seemed to pull herself together and plastered a weak smile on her face.
“Zane made us breakfast,” she declared, gesturing to the table that was set. “And coffee. I’ll get you some,” she added, seeing me eye her cup enviously.
She moved to the pot, leaving Zane and I staring at each other. Lexie seemed nonplussed at waking up to him in the house, making her breakfast on what could possibly be the hardest day of her life so far. Maybe that was why she was nonplussed. She also appeared to be clinging to the strength that seemed to emanate of his strong body. Whatever it was, she was acting like Zane had woken up with us every morning for years. I was only too aware he hadn’t. No man had. I wouldn’t know how to act with a normal guy in our domestic environment, let alone a burly, half mute biker. One that I was madly in love with.
Before I had the chance to think on it, Zane closed the space between us, his hand going to my neck. He pressed his lips to my head softly. I sank against him slightly, reveling in the comfort of his touch, of the intimate gesture. His lips left my head and his eyes moved to mine. He searched them a moment.
“Hard day for my girls,” he murmured, eyes moving to Lexie who was standing close to us with my coffee cup. For once, I didn’t feel the need to pounce on the coffee wielding child. Instead, I wanted to prolong this moment for as long as possible. Zane put his hand to the back of Lexie’s neck in a similar hold to the one he had on me.
“You’ll get through it,” he promised. “Get to the sunshine on the other side.” He looked at us a moment more then released us, moving back to the stove. Lexie handed me my coffee silently. I took it and we watched Zane move bacon and eggs onto the table. That companionable silence descended once more.
“We have placemats?” I asked, breaking it.
Lexie and I both giggled at the absurdity of people like us having such an item. People who spent most of their time eating out. And when Lexie did cook something that didn’t have a thousand “superfoods” in it, we ate on our laps in front of the TV. The kitchen table was used for the consumption of coffee, pizza and sometimes the odd breakfast. Nothing needing placements. So we laughed. Zane stood there watching us, his eyes warm. When we had finished with our hysteria, he did that little half smile of his.
“Yeah,” he said quietly to both of us, “my girls will get through this.”
Whether it was his words, or our ability to laugh after having our hearts broken, or both, I believed him.
“Do you believe in Heaven?”