Most people would assume, since my uncles own the coffee shop, when they come to town to visit, they spend the majority of their visit taking stock of their business. Not so. When Davey and George come to town, their focus is on me, and the people they miss during the year, the business comes far lower on their list of worries.

They would come in a few times, just to say hello to the employees and to see and taste any new pastries I'd come up with (so George could demand the recipe to take back home with them and wow their friends in Florida). I knew what to expect, the routine of their visits were natural, the expectation of family dinners which I loved and craved as much as they did, and the contentment that came from having my family nearby was a treat.

I had given Davey and George the security code, it was their business after all, and wasn't too surprised that George was waiting in the kitchen for me the next morning. He and I had baked together so much before they moved to Florida, my uncle by marriage seeming to know that I needed an outlet of some sort to calm the upheaval that my home life had caused within me. When my mom died, that need amped up a thousandfold, and so did our time in the kitchen together.

He smiled as he took in how close Clay was when we walked into the room, the ease of his hand on my waist, the naturalness of our touching obvious to anyone who witnessed it. He already had my mixing bowls and measuring cups out and I felt my own grin match his at the reality that we'd be falling into familiar family routines.

"I should go," Clay's voice rumbled through his body and into my back where he was pressed.

"What the hell for?" It was George who answered. "If you've been watching Char bake every morning, why stop because I'm here?" I felt a laugh bubbling up at the thought of Clay's daily serving of breakfast, but managed to hold it down. "Unless you don't just WATCH-" George did it, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and I snorted. Dear God.

I could feel Clay shaking his head, but heard his laughter coating his answer. "Oh, I haven't got a single fucking clue about baking, George."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's not where your strengths lie," I was going to crack a fucking rib from holding in my laughter. "Come on, girl, get over here and help your poor uncle bake. Your gentleman caller can fetch us refreshments when they're needed."

Clay kissed my temple and dutifully sat in the stool he normally watched me bake from, and just like George had demanded, he became our gopher while we worked.

I said goodbye to Clay at the door, once the last batch of pastries were in the oven. "I should have had breakfast in your apartment," he murmured against my lips and I grinned into his kiss. "Now I'm gonna be a fucking bear to deal with all fucking day." Another kiss and he left, just as Davey arrived.

"That man is something else," my uncle offered, smiling as I locked the door behind us. "He makes you happy." He was studying me, taking in whatever changes he thought he saw in me. "You look happy."

I nodded, letting him follow me to the kitchen where his husband was drinking a cup of coffee. "I am happy, mostly."

I caught the look the two of them shared and felt a twist in my stomach. Shit. What now?

"We told you we wanted to discuss something with you, sweetheart," Davey started, taking Clay's seat on the stool. "Now seems as good a time as any."

George rolled his eyes. "You're scaring her, for Christ's sake." He pulled me close and kissed my temple. "It's nothing bad, Char, at least we don't think you'll think it's bad." That didn't sound comforting, but what followed wasn't bad. It just fucking changed a shit ton of my life in one go.

By the time Clay slipped in before closing, my mind had finally calmed down enough to process what my uncles had told me that morning. I'd managed to get through the day as normally as possible, since I hadn't seen Keli shooting me any of those looks that I equated with her being concerned for my mental health. I hadn't dropped anything. I didn't scream or lose my shit, not even when the two cops popped in for an update on my memory.

Of course, George and Davey had been in the cafe at the time, and they took both cops to school on police harassment and innocent until proven- They'd stared both men dead in the eye and straight out asked if they honestly thought that their niece was involved in the arson. Even Grumpy Pants gulped uncomfortably at the implications my uncles were making.

All in all, the day wasn't a loss. It wasn't nearly as horrifying as it could have been, after the news that my uncles handed me.

Clay's arms were around me as soon as I set the alarm, his need for me evident against my stomach as his mouth took mine hotly. Jesus, I thought, being swept into his arms and thinking that he couldn't get me upstairs fast enough for my tastes, but he didn't head upstairs. Oh no, clearly Clay wanted to get his breakfast right where he normally did, as he strode with purpose back into the kitchen and joined me on the island countertop where I normally prepared the dough for each morning's pastries.

Far sturdier than my bed, the island still took a pounding, because Clay was single-minded in his hunger, and I was more than ready to match him.

We were still naked, still on top of the island, and still wrapped up in one another when I finally had to let out the laughter that I seemed to have held in since we found George in the kitchen waiting for us. "Something funny, Char?" Skin on skin, I couldn't think of a better way to start or end a day with Clay.

"This entire day," I sighed. "Did you know," I propped myself up so our eyes could meet. "That this business is mine?" I gestured around, leaving no doubt as to what I meant. His eyes went wide. "I don't mean that Davey and George just gave it to me," I shook my head. "Oh no, they literally bought it FOR me, when I was born. The name was something Davey called me when he found out Mom was having me. 'The Little Drip' was interchangeable with 'The Little Bean', but George convinced him that there were too many coffee shops using the word 'bean' in the name." My wonderful, sweet, thoughtful uncles had thought of me first since the moment they knew I was coming. "George told me that they wanted to make sure that I always had SOMETHING of my own, since they were worried that Walter would find a way to take everything from Mom."

"You own the shop?" His fingers were sliding along my skin, listening as I told him how wonderful the two men who basically raised me were.

"The shop, the house that my mom-" I stopped, taking a deep breath. "They contemplated putting the house they stay in when they're in town in my name too, but I convinced them that I had more than enough real estate," and I'd only told Clay about two pieces of it. "Since I'm not interested in relocating, they wanted to make sure I had a home."

Clay smiled up at me, his eyes twinkling. "Those two really love you." I nodded again. "They're good people, I know, I have experience in reading people." Biting my lip, I wondered if I'd ever be able to tell my uncles just who Clay really was. "Pretty fucking soon, Charlotte, I hope that MAX will be dealt with, and then no secrets from anyone anymore."

"So I don't have to tell my uncles I'm in a relationship with a corpse?" I raised an eyebrow and he shook his head and sat up to kiss me. "Damn, for once I thought I'd get to make George blush." His laughter joined mine as our lips met.