Dad brought over a plate with bacon, two eggs, and a stack of three small pancakes dripping with butter and syrup. He slid it in front of me with a grin. “Pancakes and bacon were your favorite. Hope they’re good.”

“It all looks amazing. Smells good too.”

“Caroline?” he asked.

“Sure, why not? See, aren’t you glad I fixed your kitchen? It’s so much easier to cook in here.”

Dad narrowed his eyes at her and went back to the stove without responding. I kind of wondered if that meant he agreed with her but didn’t want to admit it.

“The Saturday breakfast tradition started before you were born,” Mom said. “We used to meet our friends at a diner on Saturday mornings. We all would have been out late the night before and we’d shuffle in, tired or maybe a little hungover. After coffee and a big breakfast, we’d perk up. But the diner went out of business and there wasn’t another good breakfast place in town at the time.”

“The Copper Kettle was open back then, but we didn’t go there,” Dad said.

“That’s right,” Mom said, her eyes unfocused. “Of course we didn’t go there. That was the Haven diner. In any case, with our favorite breakfast place out of business, Norman started filling in the gap. Instead of shuffling into a diner downtown, he and I would just shuffle into our own kitchen. Then we had you, and it was easier to have our big Saturday breakfast at home anyway. We kept it up until you were three or four.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Things change. Schedules get in the way.” Mom’s eyes flicked to Dad again.

“Firefighters work twenty-four-hour shifts,” Dad said. “Sometimes that means not being home on Saturday mornings.”

“Or in their beds on Friday nights,” Mom said with a slight edge to her voice.

Dad shut a cupboard door—not quite a slam, but with more force than necessary. “Even if that’s where they’d rather be.”

“Would they?”

“It’s just part of the job. There’s not a guy on my crew who wouldn’t rather be sleeping beside his wife.”

“Well good for their wives,” Mom snapped. “I’m sure they’re very satisfied.”

“I’m sure they are because they’re patient enough to make up for the lost time later in the week.”

“If later in the week ever comes and they’re not left in bed alone wearing new black lace lingerie, waiting for their husband who isn’t coming home because he’s covering for someone on his crew. Again.”

I stared at my plate, my fork dangling in my grasp. This conversation had turned very specific—and very mortifying—in the space of just four words. New black lace lingerie.

Oh god.

Dad dropped a plate of food in front of my mom. “When things like that happen, they have no idea their wives bought new lingerie or that they’re at home wearing it. Believe me, they do not like missing out on that.”

“Their wives don’t like missing out on it either.”

They both stopped and silence rushed into the room, like a wave breaking over the sand. Trying not to look at either of them, I picked at my breakfast. The buzz of the fridge made the back of my neck tingle uncomfortably. Should I change the subject? Stay quiet? Ask a question? Run while I could still get away?

Running seemed like my best option.

“Thank you so much for breakfast, Dad.” I stood and took my plate to the counter. “I’ll reheat some leftovers later. I’m full already.”

Dad cleared his throat. “Okay, sure. Going to meet Ginny?”

“Yeah.”

“Have fun, honey,” Mom said.

“Thanks.”

I hurried upstairs to grab my purse and phone. When I tip-toed back downstairs, the kitchen was relatively quiet. They weren’t arguing anymore, at least. I grabbed my coat, slipped outside, and left.

Ginny was in a window booth when I got to the Bigfoot Diner. I took off my coat and sat across from her.

“Hey,” she said with a bright smile. “I ordered us both coffee, but I haven’t ordered food yet.”

“Thanks. I’ll probably stick with coffee for now. My dad was cooking breakfast and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by not eating.”

She shrugged. “No problem. I just wanted company.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The waitress came by with a carafe of coffee and filled our mugs, and Ginny ordered breakfast.

“Speaking of your dad, how are things on the home front?” Ginny asked after the waitress left. “Did he cook breakfast for Caroline, too?”

“Yes, and somehow that led to them arguing about his old work schedule and…” I trailed off, not sure I wanted to dig into what they’d really been arguing about.

“And, what?” She blew on her coffee.

“The implication was the impact his schedule had on their sex life. There was mention of him missing out on her waiting in bed wearing new black lace lingerie. At that point, I started plotting my escape.”

“Oh my god, that’s both adorable and sad at the same time.”

“And also very cringey to listen to your divorced parents have a thinly veiled argument about their former sex life at the breakfast table.”

Ginny winced. “Yeah, that’s not ideal. We can change the subject if you want.”

“Thank you.”

“So did Gavin take you straight home last night, or…”

I groaned, my shoulders slumping. “No.”

“What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, I tucked my hair behind my ear. “We went to his house and started watching a movie. He startled me as a joke and then all of a sudden…”

She raised her eyebrows. “What? All of a sudden, what?”

“We were making out.”

“Get it, girl. So what’s the problem?”

Leaning closer, I lowered my voice. “The problem is, he dry humped me to a freaking orgasm, and then stopped.”

“What do you mean, stopped? He just got up and that was that?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, he moved to the other side of the couch. I could tell he was keyed up, because, you know.”

“His dick was hard,” she said bluntly.

“Yes, and I was very clear that it was a yes from me and we could keep going. But he said no.”

“Are you sure he didn’t come in his pants and didn’t want you to know?”

“Definitely not, although I think he was close.”

Ginny’s eyes were wide, and for a second, she just stared at me, her lips forming a little O. “So he gave you an orgasm and then didn’t want to continue.”

“Yes.”

“I’m confused.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice tinged with enthusiasm. “See? That’s weird, right? It’s not just me?”

“No, definitely not just you.”

“He took some deep breaths and rubbed his hands up and down his face, and then he asked me if I wanted to keep watching the stupid movie.”

“That’s all just… very unexpected.”

“I know.”