Theo wasn’t looking, so Ollie let himself facepalm.
Ty-uh-Tyler-Morris took it in stride, grinning delightedly. “You know, that’s a really good question. How about we save it for after breakfast, though, because I made some choices last night that I am going to regret this morning if I don’t get some food in me.”
“We couldn’t figure out which door went to the kitchen,” Theo explained in a stage whisper.
Ty laughed like Ollie’s kid was the best comedian on the planet, not forced at all. For a split second, the stuffy old room felt bright and lived-in. “All the doors in this place do kinda look the same, don’t they? Come on. We’ll push ’em all open until we find it.”
The kitchen, at least, didn’t look like a period piece, even if dishes—clean, from what Ollie could tell—littered half the available counter space. Ollie had done a little research into living with dementia before he told Eliza he’d take this job,so he knew Morris Senior was probably the one who’d taken them all out. He wondered what the rest of the house looked like, if he’d taken everything out of the linen closets and piled his clothes on the floor.
Ollie would’ve dealt with it, even though picking it up likely would’ve been a daily task, not a one-and-done. But maybe it was better that he didn’t have to. Having stuff all over the place like that had to be some kind of health hazard—tripping, fire. Last thing he needed was Theo breaking a bone.
Which, speaking of breaking things, Ollie had the feeling he ought to get some caffeine into their host before he fell over. Ollie located the coffee maker—miraculously free of countertop clutter or suspicious fuzzy growths—and a canister of coffee and got to work.
“Wow, you are really… just going for it, huh?”
“You did tell me to make myself at home.”
“I… did do that, didn’t I. I’m sorry. I’m not usually—okay, I actually am usually this much of a disaster.” Ty ran a hand through his hair as he dropped into a chair at the breakfast bar and finished in a mutter at the countertop, “At least whenever I’m in this house.”
Ollie started to suspect that he’d have to do the cooking if any breakfast was to be consumed. He opened a few cupboards in search of mugs. “What’s that they say? ‘You can go back home again, but we’d advise against it’?”
Ty snorted and raised his head. “Oh, so the kid gets his sense of humor from you?”
“Yeah, no one’s more surprised than me. I definitely thought it skipped a generation.”
Theo climbed up onto the stool next to Ty. “What’sthatmean?”
“That means that your daddy needs to start watching his mouth when his kid is around.” Ollie ruffled Theo’s hair. He might not have the best relationship with his parents, but he didn’t want Theo to hate them before they even met. “Your grandma tells bad jokes is all. But don’t tell her I said that. You just pretend to laugh, okay?”
Theo nodded gamely. “Okay.”
Over his head, Ty met Ollie’s eyes and grinned crookedly. Yeah, Ollie’s kid was the best. “Knew I could count on you, bud.”
Mugs, check. Coffee, check. Ollie poured two and slid one in front of Ty. Ty looked like he might cry.
“Can I have coffee too, Dad?”
“Not unless your aunt Cassie is babysitting.” She had it coming after what she’d put Ollie through as a kid. He poked his head into the fridge. Eggs, check. Milk, check. Both passed the sniff test. The deli drawer looked beyond questionable; Ollie wasn’t going in there. “Hey, you got flour or bread?”
“Uh, in the little—food garage thing, except…”
Food garage?Oh, in the corner of the counter, a little sliding door lifted to reveal a toaster and a stash of bread and English muffins. Because sure. Plates on the counter, simple carbs hidden away. Dementia logic.
“… I don’t actually know how old anything in there is, so….”
Ollie inspected the bread tag. It was within the best-before date, so he shrugged. “No mold. French toast it is.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Uh, unless you want over-easy on toast or something?”
The color drained out of Ty’s face. “French toast,” he said firmly.
“No runny yolks this morning,” Ollie said. “Got it.” He glanced at Theo. “You want a piece too, bud?”
Theo made a thoughtful face and then said, “I could eat,” which he’d definitely picked up from Ollie.
Ty looked like he knew it too, because the crooked grin returned.
“Okay. Coming right up.”
For the next twenty minutes, Ollie focused on cooking while Theo played Twenty Questions with their host. Considering how hungover the guy had to be, he had a remarkable amount of patience. Finally Ollie plated up and sat down on the opposite side of the breakfast bar.
