Читать книгу A Father for Her Triplets - Susan Meier - Страница 3

She walked into the kitchen. “What’s this?”

Everybody froze at the sound of her voice.

Wyatt said, “What did we practise?”

All three kids shouted, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

Owen raced over and caught her around the knees, hugging for all he was worth. Claire bounced off the stepstool and ran over too.

Lainie danced to the flowers. “These are yours.”

Her heart stuttered. Tears pricked her eyelids. She pressed her fingers to her lips and swallowed. Four Mother’s Days had come and gone with no recognition, and truth be told she’d been too busy to notice. If anything, she mourned her mom on Mother’s Day.

How could a man who thought to help her kids get her flowers for Mother’s Day, a man who was making her breakfast which she could smell was now burning, think he wasn’t nice?

She peeked over at Wyatt. “Thanks.”

Flipping scrambled eggs which smoked when he shifted them, he said, “It was nothing.”

It was everything. But she couldn’t tell him that.