The smell was infinitely stronger inside. Freshly baked bread. Something rich, warm, and buttery.

And cutting through it all was the sharp, clean scent of lemon Pinesol.

For a split second, I legitimately thought I had walked into the wrong unit.Then my eyes landed on Liam’s lopsided drawing of a ninja turtle taped to the fridge.

We were definitely home.But the apartment looked nothing like the disaster zone I had left behind at dawn.

The fleece throw usually crumpled on the couch was perfectly folded.Liam’s scattered sneakers were lined up neatly by the baseboard.

My chaotic pile of junk mail had been squared off and stacked on the entryway table.The living room rug was freshly vacuumed.

The kitchen counters were spotless.

Even the sink was completely empty of dishes.

I just stood in the doorway, dumbfounded.Then I heard the metallic scrape of a pan in the kitchen.

My stomach dropped, and my muscles tensed.
Marcus rounded the corner, still wearing the oversized gray hoodie I’d lent him.

He still had the bulky brace strapped to his leg.
He stopped dead in his tracks the second he read my expression.

“I know exactly how this looks.”

“Do you?”

“I didn’t go near either of the bedrooms, I promise.”

I let my eyes wander over the gleaming living room.

“What on earth happened in here?”

“I did some cleaning.”

“I can clearly see that.”

“And I made dinner.”

Liam was already sliding past me toward the kitchen.

“Mom, come look!”

Sitting on a clean plate were two perfectly golden grilled cheese sandwiches next to a steaming pot of tomato soup.

A fresh, crusty loaf of bread was cooling on a wire rack.
“Can Marcus stay for dinner tonight?”

Marcus immediately started closing his textbook. “I can head out if you guys need—”

I walked over and pulled open the refrigerator door.

“We have plenty.”

And this time, when I said it, I wasn’t just talking about the food.