Chapter 7 - THE FIRST DAWN
Two weeks later.
The morning sun broke through the gray clouds over Bellevue, casting golden light across the small kitchen of Nora’s apartment.
The smell of brewing coffee and sweet batter filled the air.
I stood by the stove in my shirt sleeves, flipping blueberries pancakes on a cast-iron skillet. Beside me, Poppy sat on a high stool, wearing a pair of giant yellow chef’s mittens, carefully placing strawberry slices onto paper plates.
Nora walked into the kitchen, wearing a soft cream sweater, her hair falling naturally around her shoulders. She looked rested, her skin glowing, the dark circles that had haunted her eyes at the clinic completely gone.
She stopped in the doorway, watching us with a gentle, happy smile that made my chest swell with warmth.
“Are those burnt on the edges?” Nora asked, stepping up beside me and reaching for a mug.
“Perfection takes practice,” I said, turning to kiss her cheek. She didn't pull away; she leaned into the touch, her hand resting naturally against my waist.
“Dad made a dinosaur-shaped one!” Poppy announced proudly, holding up a lopsided pancake that vaguely resembled a Stegosaurus.
The word—Dad—had come naturally to her three days ago during a trip to the park. She had slipped her small hand into mine while watching the ducks, looked up, and said, “Dad, can we feed them the bread crusts?”
I had stopped on the path, swallowed back tears, and held her hand so tightly she laughed.
“A dinosaur pancake deserves extra syrup,” Nora said, pulling a glass jar from the cupboard.
My phone chimed on the counter. It was a notification from Sarah Chen:
The federal court has officially approved the complete expungement of your name from the Harbor Lantern documents. The fund has been renamed the Poppy Whitaker Pediatric Care Foundation, fully funded for the next twenty years.
I slid the phone back into my pocket without saying a word. The battles of the corporate world, the courtrooms, and the press felt a million miles away from this bright, warm kitchen.
“Theo?” Nora asked, noticing my quietness. “Is everything okay?”
May you like
I looked at Nora, then down at Poppy, who was giggling as she tried to pour syrup using her oversized chef mittens.
“Everything is perfect,” I said, wrapping my arms around Nora from behind, pulling her close against my chest. “For the first time in eight years, everything is exactly where it belongs.”
