She woke with the fire simmering and Bollocks tapping his whip of a tail—his signal to get up, get moving.
Relaxed and content, she did. Shower sex, a really good meal she’d had no part in preparing, and a little music before a solid night’s sleep. She couldn’t ask for better.
She tugged on boots as Bollocks danced by the side of the bed.
“We’re going, we’re going,” she told him, and grabbed her robe.
Following habit, she went down, straight to the door. Where he streamed out into the predawn in his race to the bay. And she aimed straight for coffee. On the way, she boosted the fire in the living room from simmer to blaze.
Still half dreaming, she carried the coffee outside. Could she actually smell the early hints of spring coming? Maybe just wishful thinking, she decided, but either way she liked it.
She’d check on her seedlings later and start making real plans for the little cutting garden she’d talked through with Seamus. And vegetables, too—a small patch. Maybe overkill, since she could get all they needed from the farm or Nan, but she thought Marco would enjoy stepping out and picking his own tomatoes and peppers.
Plus, fun.
And she liked, really liked, making these plans for a life she wanted.
The sun shimmered awake in the east as she drank her coffee and Bollocks splashed in the bay. Mists rose, caught that early light, and went to silver with hints of pink.
Dawn, she realized, always lifted her mood. It bloomed, every day, with promise and possibility.
She imagined on the other side Harken set about the morning chores. Or maybe Keegan perched on a three-legged stool, milking a cow.
She’d pay to see that one.
Soon, on both sides, parents would wake children for school. People would dress for work; families would share breakfast.
So much the same everywhere, she thought. Yet so much different. And as part of both, she had duties and pleasures on either side.
When Bollocks raced back to her, she dried him. And crouched, an arm around him, enjoyed sharing the break of a new day.
“Time for my workout. You already had yours, didn’t you? But time for mine, so I have to gear up. Breakfast for you first,” she promised, and kissed his sweet face.
She went back in, then nearly jumped a foot when she saw Marco sitting by the fire with his laptop.
“Jeez! You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing up at dawn?”
“Reading.”
She remembered, said, “Oh,” and retreated to the kitchen to feed the dog.
She poured a second mug of coffee but decided her now uneasy stomach couldn’t handle her usual slice of toast.
“I’m going up to change, get my workout in.”
Marco just looked at her, pointed to the cushion beside him. “Sit.”
“Oh God. It’s that bad? I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“Stop it. Sit.”
“Okay.”
She sat, braced, reminded herself she wanted honesty. “Maybe I started it off too fast. Or too slow. I could—”
“Stop it,” he said again. He set the laptop aside and picked up his coffee. “I read the stingy two chapters you said I could, twice. I’m starting the third time through. You need to let me have more.”
“If the first two don’t work—”