Page 205 of Where We Stay

Blair groans from her place on the couch. “Does the boardwalk involve walking?”

“Generally, yeah,” I say with a laugh.

She lifts her head long enough to glare at me. “I liked you better when you were making bacon.”

“Come on, baby. Fresh air will do you good.” I lean down and kiss the top of her head.

“People say that like fresh air isn’t just air outside,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

I laugh. “We’ll get hot chocolates on the way.”

“And cake,” Blair adds, forcing herself off the couch.

“Yes, baby. And cake.” I grab her shoulders and steer her toward her coat, only to find Aspen already waiting by the front door.

We pile into my truck and head toward Main Street. Apparently, we’re sitting inside the café because Blair wants to do “less walking than is absolutely necessary.”

“I am seriously never drinking again,” she groans from the passenger seat.

“You said that last time.” I glance over at her, attempting a subtle smirk.

Who am I kidding? I’m outright smiling.

“If Aspen wasn’t in the car, I’d curse at you right now.”

“But Santa won’t come if you curse, Blair,” Aspen reminds her from the back seat.

“That’s right, sunflower. Santa won’t come.”

By the time we walk into Coast Café, Blair has her sunglasses on, the hood of my sweatshirt pulled over her head, and one hand pressed dramatically against her stomach.

We find a table near the window, Aspen climbing straight onto her chair and bouncing in her seat while she waits.

“Morning, Pen,” Courtney says as she approaches with an order pad.

Aspen lights up. “Mommy!”

Blair glances at me, but there’s nothing guarded in her expression before she turns back to Courtney.

“Hey, Courtney.”

“Hey.” Courtney smiles at her. “Rough night?”

Blair looks down at herself—sunglasses, my hoodie, hair shoved into a messy bun.

“Is it that obvious?”

“YES,” G calls from a nearby table.

I turn, only just noticing Georgie slumped over a coffee like it’s the sole thing keeping her alive.

Blair flips her off without looking, making Courtney laugh.

“What are you doing here, G?” I ask.

“Dying a slow and painful death.” Georgie lifts her head from the table. “Where are you guys going?”

“The boardwalk,” Aspen tells her excitedly. “Do you want to come, Aunt G?”