Chapter 19 #2
The space smelled like warm wood and vanilla, the sunlight slanting through the big windows catching dust motes in golden streaks.
It was cozy but open, with worn leather couches, a rustic wooden table that looked like it had been carved by someone who cared, and a stone fireplace that seemed ready to swallow them in its warmth.
Every corner spoke of history and memories—it spoke of a family who had lived here and loved here.
Then she heard it, the clear, bubbling laughter of Lynlee in the distance.
It should have eased the knot in her stomach, but instead it made her panic a little.
What would happen when—if—she told them the truth about Colter being Lynlee’s father and everything changed?
After all, Sutton had infiltrated this family under false pretenses.
“It sounds like they’re in the kitchen,” Colter said as he led the way.
The moment she stepped through the doorway, her heart warmed because standing on a chair so she could reach the counter and stirring pancake batter with Vivi’s guidance was Lynlee.
She had on a too-big apron, a tiara made from cardboard and tinfoil, and an array of macaroni necklaces that matched Vivi’s.
Something in Sutton’s chest loosened and tightened all at once.
The sight was so achingly ordinary—flour-dusted counters, crooked crafts, a child playing dress-up—that it felt extraordinary to her, like watching a life she’d never dared to imagine unfold without asking permission first. Lynlee looked rooted there, like she wasn’t visiting or borrowing space but claiming it.
Sutton felt the familiar ache of wanting two impossible things at once: to freeze this moment exactly as it was, and to run from it before it could be taken away. Because joy had always come with an end date in her world and loving something this much made her afraid of what it would cost to keep.
“I thinks we should use the chocolate chips as the eyes and smile,” Lynlee said.
“I don’t know about that, Princess,” Boone said. He was on the other side of Lynlee, working the skillet. “That sounds more like a dessert than breakfast.”
“Mommy lets me do it.”
“Mommy only lets you do it on special occasions,” Sutton said and Lynlee looked up.
“Mommy!” she squealed with delight.
Lynlee hopped off the chair and tore through the kitchen, wrapping herself around Sutton’s waist so hard they nearly toppled over. They were both giggling as Sutton caught her just in time. And honestly, even if they had gone down in a heap on the kitchen floor it would’ve been worth it.
“There’s my girl,” Sutton said, bending to press a kiss into Lynlee’s hair and breathing in her sweet scent. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you more,” Lynlee declared, squeezing tighter, then pulling back just enough to look up at her. “Uncle Boone let me crack the eggs but not on his head, and Vivi said I’m the boss of the pancakes, and I got to stir and I didn’t spill that much.”
Uncle Boone? When had that happened?
“That much?” Sutton teased, brushing batter off Lynlee’s cheek with her thumb.
“And!” Lynlee added, hopping in place. “We made crowns and necklaces and Lady Rea says pancakes taste better when you wear a tiara.”
Sutton laughed, her throat thick as she hugged her again. “Well, clearly I missed a very important morning.”
“Uh-huh,” Lynlee said solemnly. “You gotta stay sos you can eat them. Pancakes are for family.”
Sutton held Lynlee a second longer than necessary, her chin resting on the top of her daughter’s head, breathing her in like she needed to memorize this version of the moment.
Because this was the tricky part—not the lie itself, but how easy it would be to stay inside it.
How natural it felt to watch Lynlee laugh with Boone, to see Vivi wipe pancake batter from her cheek like she’d done it a hundred times before, to hear Colter’s family call her Princess without hesitation or explanation.
This was the life Sutton had wanted for her. Not just safety, but roots. People who didn’t leave. A kitchen that remembered laughter. And Sutton was standing in the middle of it knowing she’d already walked out of step with the truth.
Her gaze flicked to Colter—how comfortable he looked here, how at ease watching his family orbit around Lynlee like she had always been part of the constellation.
The truth pressed against her ribs because when she finally said the words—she’s yours—everything would change.
There would be shock, anger, and a million questions she wasn’t sure she could answer without breaking something fragile and good.
Across the kitchen, Rea had gone still.
Not the performative stillness she deployed when she was calculating her next move—this was different—quieter.
She stood with her coffee cup forgotten in her hand, watching Colter crouch down to Lynlee's level to inspect the cardboard tiara with the same focused attention he gave a complicated diagnosis.
Lynlee was explaining something about the glitter—very seriously, gesturing with both hands—and Colter was nodding like the information was load-bearing.
Rea watched them for a long moment before bringing the teacup to her lips and said nothing.
When Sutton caught her eye, Rea simply smiled a warm, unhurried smile of someone who was keeping her own secret.
"Well," she murmured, almost to herself, gaze sliding back to Colter and Lynlee. "Isn't that something."
Then Boone said something loud and ridiculous and the kitchen came back to life and Rea moved on as though she hadn't just seen straight through to the middle of everything.
Sutton tightened her arms around Lynlee, heart pounding.
She hadn’t survived the system just to blow it all up, but she also couldn’t pretend forever.
“Mom,” Lynlee said, tugging on her scrub pants. “Yous gotta wear a crown too. Lady Rea says adults forget how to have fun without reminders.”
Lady Rea, who was leaning against the counter almost regally, leaned forward, her voice dropping into something conspiratorial and fond, the kind of tone earned by years of knowing exactly how the world worked, said, “You know, darling, I learned a long time ago that if you want to be taken seriously, you’ve got to wear a crown.
Doesn’t matter if it’s gold, cardboard, or borrowed for the morning. ”
She gave Sutton a look that said she’d paid tuition for wisdom—and graduated summa cumulate.
“Adulthood has a way of sucking the fun out unless someone intervenes,” Rea went on lightly. “We get so busy proving we belong that we forget we’re allowed to enjoy the room once we’re in it.”
Sutton cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how full her chest felt.
“Thank you,” she said, meaning all of it. “For watching Lynlee and making it a special moment. I know it was short notice.”
Rea waved her off. “Please. Any excuse to spoil that girl.”
Boone grinned at Lynlee. “Princess duties come with breakfast privileges.”
Lynlee gasped like she’d been handed a royal decree.
Sutton’s gaze flicked to Colter, searching for an exit—a polite excuse for a graceful retreat before this turned into something that felt too much like the morning after.
After waking up tangled like a pretzel on his office couch, the last thing she was prepared for was pancakes and family like she hadn’t spent the night with her face inches from her boss's most prized livestock.
Colter caught the look and held it. Then one brow lifted in quiet challenge, like he knew exactly what she was plotting and had already decided he wasn’t letting her succeed with her plan.
He pulled out a chair. “Sit, Freckles. You’re not leaving without eating.”
Rea tilted her head, eyes bright. “It’d be rude not to. I raised these boys better than to let a lady go on an empty belly.”
“Did you hear that? I’ve been raised better than that,” Colter said, lowering his voice so only Sutton could hear.
“Pretty sure cuddling your employee all night negates whatever manners you’re claiming,” she whispered back, sliding onto the chair.
His mouth twitched and he leaned in like he was reaching for the butter, not her attention. “Funny, I was thinking it proved you trust me or that my lap had excellent reviews.”
“Careful, I’m one comment away from blaming it on the exhaustion and pretending none of this happened.”
“Can’t,” he murmured. “You drooled. There’s evidence.”
Her foot nudged his under the table. Hard. “You just keep digging yourself in deeper.”
“Deeper doesn’t scare me,” he said cryptically, eyes flicking to her mouth. “And you’re still here, eating my pancakes.”
She smiled despite herself. “Don’t read into it.”
“I won’t,” he said, settling back, all smug-like. “Unless you ask me to.”