12. Grayson #2
“Then we define affiliation by shared directors, controlling interests, administrative addresses, and financial relationships,” Maceo says. “A donor should not be able to avoid a cap by changing the name on the check.”
Maya looks at Luca. “And if the money is needed?”
“Then we decide whether the conditions are worth accepting,” Luca says. “We don't pretend the conditions are harmless because we need the money.”
Blossom adds every request to the revision list.
The final disagreement concerns Keller Industries. The draft states that the company may provide services under written agreements but will hold no ownership interest in Ember House.
“Can Keller cancel the services if the board makes a decision the family dislikes?” Maya asks.
Luca looks toward me only briefly before answering. “Then the agreement isn't independent enough. We revise it.”
Maceo’s face shifts on the screen as he begins making another note. “We can include termination periods, funding-transition requirements, and a provision preventing immediate withdrawal in retaliation for a board decision.”
“What about the building?” another resident asks. “Who owns the land underneath us?”
Blossom flips to the property section, and the conversation continues.
Nobody votes that day. By the time the meeting ends, Luca has several pages of revisions, Maceo has promised a new legal draft, and Blossom has marked three sections that need to return to the resident council before anyone else sees them.
“The structure comes back here after legal review,” Luca says. “It doesn't get approved until the people governed by it believe the protections are real.”
Maya gathers her papers. “We will find more problems.”
“I expect you to.”
“That sounded like a challenge.”
Luca smiles. “It was.”
The next morning, I wake nearly an hour later than usual and hear the kitchen before I reach the stairs.
“My eggs are touching my toast, Daddy!” Samuel shouts from somewhere below me.
Rosalie’s laughter follows a second later, bright and breathless, while James insists he has done nothing wrong. A spoon clatters beneath the table, and Maceo says, “Nobody move,” in the same clipped tone he uses when a filing deadline has gone sideways.
By the time I step into the kitchen, Samuel is kneeling backward on his chair to inspect the stove, James has a streak of jam running from his wrist to his elbow, and Rosalie’s half-finished braid is hanging over one ear.
Maceo keeps one hand on the frying pan and the other braced against Samuel’s stomach so he cannot lean any closer.
“Sit properly,” Maceo tells him as he nudges the chair back with his foot.
Samuel twists around to look at him. “I am sitting.”
“Your knees are on the chair.”
“That still counts.”
Blake laughs into his mug while Luca reaches across the table with a damp cloth. “James, give me your arm.”
James pulls it against his chest and studies the red smear with open satisfaction. “It looks like blood.”
“It’s strawberry jam,” Luca says, catching his wrist before he can drag it across his shirt.
“I know. I’m pretending.”
Luca starts wiping him clean while Blake leans over and kisses his cheek. Luca turns just enough that the kiss lands too close to the corner of his mouth, and he gives Blake a look that makes the Delta smile.
“You missed,” Luca murmurs.
Blake sets his mug down and kisses him again, slower this time, one hand settling briefly at Luca’s waist. “Better?”
Luca’s smile lingers as he returns to James’s arm. “Much.”
Rosalie notices me then and twists hard enough to pull another section of hair from Luther’s fingers. “Gray! Papa made one side bigger.”
Luther exhales through his nose and gathers the loose strands again. “Your head keeps moving.”
“Because things keep happening,” she says, trying to look past him toward the stove.
“Things will continue happening whether you watch them or not.” Luther smooths the section flat with one palm, but Rosalie turns the moment Maceo drops a piece of toast onto the counter.
Luca laughs against Blake’s shoulder. Blake hooks an arm around his waist and draws him closer, making Luca nearly lose hold of the cloth.
“You’re not helping,” Luca says, though he is still smiling when Blake kisses the side of his head.
“I’m not trying to.”
Luther bends and presses a kiss to Rosalie’s crown before starting the braid again. “Face forward, sweetheart.”
“But Gray is here.”
“Gray will still be here when I finish.”
I cross the kitchen before sitting down and lean over Luther’s shoulder. He turns his head toward me without releasing Rosalie’s hair, and I kiss him, slow enough that Rosalie groans dramatically beneath us.
“You’re blocking the mirror,” she complains.
Luther’s mouth curves against mine before he pulls back. “There is no mirror.”
“I can still tell.”
I kiss his cheek once more and straighten. Maceo points the spatula toward the empty chair beside Blake, then reaches up as I pass and catches the back of my neck. He presses a quick kiss to my forehead before returning to the stove.
“Sit down,” he says. “I made enough.”
I take the seat while Blake slides a plate toward me.
The eggs are firmer than I usually make them, and the toast is dark around the edges, but Samuel is eating now that Maceo has separated everything on his plate.
James has stopped pretending the jam is blood, and Rosalie is holding still long enough for Luther to finish the second braid.
Maceo sets the pan down and leans over Luca’s chair to kiss him before taking the last open seat. Luca catches the front of his shirt and keeps him there for another second, smiling when Maceo finally pulls away.
“Thank you for cooking,” I say as I pick up my fork.
Maceo looks at my plate, then at me. “You haven’t tasted it yet.”
I take a bite while three children and four adults watch me with varying levels of concern.
Samuel leans across the table first. “Is it bad?”
I chew, swallow, and look at Maceo. “It’s breakfast.”
Luca laughs so suddenly he has to set his cup down, and Blake’s hand lands on his thigh beneath the table as he leans into him. Even Luther smiles while he searches under Rosalie’s chair for the shoe she claims has disappeared.
“It was on your foot five minutes ago,” Luther says, reaching beneath the table.
Rosalie peers down beside him. “Maybe it got bored.”
“Shoes don't get bored.”
“Mine does.”
Maceo passes the fruit bowl toward James while Samuel begins talking over him about whether the baby spoon can be used for jam.
Luca answers one child while Blake cuts another piece of toast and slides half onto Luca’s plate.
Luther finally finds the missing shoe beneath Samuel’s chair, where neither child admits putting it.
The kitchen stays loud, crowded, and full of people bumping shoulders, stealing bites, passing plates, and kissing whenever someone comes within reach.
Nobody asks me where anything is. Nobody waits for me to take over.
I take another bite and let the morning keep moving without me directing it.
That evening, I stop halfway through arranging the children’s clothes for the next morning.
Luther is already guiding Samuel toward the bathroom while Rosalie argues that brushing her hair should count as brushing her teeth. James has his pajama shirt on backward and doesn't appear concerned.
“Do you need anything?” I ask, pausing in the doorway with the folded clothes still balanced against my chest.
Luther glances at what I’m holding, then back toward the bathroom, where Rosalie’s already trying to slip past him with a dry toothbrush in one hand. “Put those down, Gray. I’ve got them.”
I look toward James, who’s standing beside his bed with one arm through the wrong side of his pajama shirt. The collar sits crooked against his neck, and the seams run down the front. “James’s shirt is backward.”
James looks down at himself, pinches the hem, and grins. “I like it.”
Luther reaches over to tug the fabric free where it’s bunched against James’s stomach, but he doesn’t make him change it.
Before I can decide whether to argue, Rosalie darts toward the bedroom.
Luther catches her around the waist and lifts her beneath one arm while she squeals and kicks once in protest.
“I brushed,” she insists, holding the untouched toothbrush out in front of her.
Luther looks at the clean bristles, then presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Okay, baby. You held it. Now let’s put some toothpaste on it and actually brush.”
Samuel laughs from the bathroom doorway and calls for her to hurry. Rosalie keeps protesting that holding it should count for something, but Luther carries her back toward the sink while Samuel squeezes past them and nearly trips over the bath mat.
James climbs onto his bed with the backward shirt still on and reaches for the book waiting on his pillow. He settles against the headboard and starts sounding out the first line without asking for help.