Page 238 of Where We Stay

“You did it, Daddy!”

“Thank fuck for that.”

Aspen gasps. “Santa!”

“Sorry, Penny.”

I pour the sauce over the pasta, throw some breadcrumbs on top and put the whole thing in the oven before it has another chance to go wrong.

Aspen and I stopped at Coast Café on the way home to buy a special cake. Courtney saw us there and gave me a bouquet of flowers to bring home for Blair.

Word spread quickly that Blair was attacked, although thankfully, most people don’t know the entire story. Hartwell has still banded together for her. Flowers, casseroles, sweets and cards have been arriving at my house all day.

We’ll have enough food to last a fucking year.

While the mac and cheese cooks, Aspen helps me set the table. She carefully lays down the sunflower place mats she made at my parents’ house, putting the biggest one in Blair’s spot.

“Because she likes them the most,” she explains.

“She’ll love it, Pen.”

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway has Aspen racing toward the window. I look out and see G helping Blair out of the passenger side.

“Remember, Blair’s sore,” I remind Aspen as I open the front door. “No jumping on her.”

“Yep.” Aspen nods seriously.

The second Blair walks through the door, Aspen takes off. I open my mouth to stop her, but she skids to a halt directly in front of Blair.

“Gentle hug,” she announces.

Blair’s entire expression softens. “I would love a gentle hug, sunflower.”

Aspen carefully wraps her arms around Blair’s waist, resting her cheek against her stomach. Blair winces slightly as she returns the hug, but the smile on her face doesn’t move.

“Does it hurt bad?” Aspen asks.

“Only a little.” Blair kisses the top of her head. “I’m okay, my love.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

G catches my eye from the porch. “She isn’t allowed to drive, and make sure she rests.”

“Traitor,” Blair calls over her shoulder.

“You love me.” G blows her a kiss before heading back to her car. “Bye, Pen!”

“Bye, Aunt G!”

Aspen takes Blair’s hand and starts leading her toward the dining room. “Come see! Daddy made so much food.”

“That sentence should concern you,” I tell Blair.

She looks back at me, one eyebrow raised. “Should I have let G take me home?”

“Funny.”