I glance at George and let out a laugh.
"You have paint on your face." I point to my own chin to show George.
He wipes his chin, smearing the paint across his cheek. "Did I get it?"
I try my hardest to fight a smile. "Yeah."
"Okay good." He dips his paintbrush into the blue paint. "I think this is the last coat."
I sit on the porch steps and watch him paint the edges around the door. My eyes begin to droop, and my body can tell I didn't sleep last night at all.
George woke Clay and I up at four in the morning saying he wanted to paint the door right at that moment. Clay rolled away and fell asleep, but I would never turn down an opportunity to paint the front door.
"Did you sleep at all last night?" I ask George, leaning my own head against the railing.
He shrugs. "I tried, but I got excited about the paint we bought yesterday."
"Aren't you tired?"
"Not really." George shrugs, switching to the paint roller now.
George hovers the paint roller just as the door flies open. Nick appears from behind, wrapped in a blanket and holding a bowl of chocolate chips.
"Don't you dare paint me," Nick warns, "I will shove your head into that paint bucket."
George laughs. "Why would you open the door when you knew we were painting it?"
Nick blinks three times as he processes the question. "Clay said breakfast is ready," is how he answered.
George and I don't even question it before setting the paint stuff down. I smile as pass through the now-blue door. The fresh coat of paint was needed as the green color slowly wore away. George said it was his turn to be represented, so we went with a blue.
The smell of pancakes fills the house as we walk in. We follow the scent all the way to the kitchen. Clay is standing at the stove; a stack of pancakes lays next to him on the tray.
"That smells so good," I say, walking over to Clay at the stove.
Nick plops into a chair, which causes George to laugh. "Why are you so grumpy today, Nick?"
"Probably because he didn't get home from Bella's house till very late last night," Clay says in a singsong voice.
Clay's head turns towards me as I settle next to him, and a smile appears on his face. He wraps the arm not holding the spatula around my waist and kisses the top of my head. "Good morning."
I lean into his warmness. "Morning."
"Would you just let me have a chocolate chip?" George huffs.
"Get your own bowl." Nick pulls the bowl away from him. "This is mine."
"Sharing is caring," George complains, "Just give me some."
I wrap both my arms around Clay's waist as he flips the last few pancakes. I watch Nick and George argue as they always do, and everything just feels right.
For the majority of my life, I had always considered anything to do with Maggie as right. I always followed what she would've wanted me to do, but as I stand in this kitchen with those closest to me, I realize I might've been the one who had it right all along.
The best decision I've ever made was accepting a stranger's job offer to code something in Minecraft. In the moment, I thought I was an idiot. I thought I was going to get kidnapped. Instead, I found my best friends.
I found my friends that I didn't have to travel anywhere and everywhere for; friends I didn't have to uproot my entire life for. Friends who wanted me to do what was best for me even if it meant we were apart for a while.
I look up at Clay's face, and I lightly kiss his shoulder, careful not to distract him. He turns the heat of the stove off and wraps both arms around me tightly. I fall into his embrace.
I've searched for a feeling of home ever since Maggie died. I thought it would be in New York, somewhere far off in the distance. It turns out it was three boys in a house exactly twenty-nine minutes away from me.
In Clay's arms, surrounded by the people I love most, I have found my home.
"Come on," Clay says softly, "let's eat."
We all pile pancakes on our plate for breakfast. Clay settles into the chair next to me, and Nick finally gives George a handful of chocolate chips.
I know life has it's ups and downs, and not everything will be perfect forever. I know that a lot of things can change, there are people I won't always be able to count on.
But right now I glance around at the people around me, knowing Saturday Mornings are made for things like this; to be filled with laughter and friends and home.
Saturday Mornings are made for Pancakes.