Eden
I stirred my pan of fresh garden peaches and melted sugar, ready to transfer to a Tupperware pot for the freezer. Once my boys were home, they’d be hungry, and peach cobbler would be at the top of the demand list. It came with the added benefit of putting my mate in the mood the moment he caught the aroma, and after five days apart, I wanted him fit for bursting.
For now, I enjoyed the peace of an empty house while my daughter was out with friends for a Friday evening of parties to celebrate the start of her summer break. My phone pinged as I scooped the last of the peaches into the tub, but what I caught of the brief notification paused my hand in midair. The pan clanged as it connected with granite, abandoned for my phone instead because I had to have misread it.
Row | We’re almo
