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“I’m just going upstairs to get my handbag and then I’ll head out,” Mom says. “Do you need anything from the store?”
I wander into the kitchen. “Nope.”
I busy myself with getting the mixing bowl and spoon, and then laying out all the necessary ingredients. Above, I hear Mom’s heels clicking and thudding on the second floor. I’m mostly done mixing my ingredients by the time she walks down the stairs. Her handbag must’ve been hidden somewhere completely covert.
The doorbell rings, and Mom calls out, “I’ll get it.”
Good, because nothing’s pulling me away from these waffles.
“Kikki,” Mom calls out. “Parker’s here.”
I drop the mixing spoon into the batter. “Huh?”
“Okay, I’m off, honey,” Mom calls out and the front door closes.
Footsteps enter the hall, and Parker shimmies into the kitchen. “Hi Kikki.”
“What are you doing here?”
He points his fingers to the sides as he does the twist. “Here for the baking dance party.”
“No, really. Why are you here?”
He moves closer to the counter. “You’ve never sent emojis before.”
My brow furrows. “Huh?”
He slips his phone out of his pocket. “You replied with an emoji. That was a bad sign.”
“Oh.” I blink as he pockets his phone. “You’re here because I sent you a thumbs up?”’
“None of your texts have emojis. Even when you’re raving about Lewis. You’re wordy, Green. A single emoji is a cry for help.”
I chew my lip. “I had no idea I had a tell.”
Parker laughs under his breath. “I dunno if it’s a tell, but I was worried about you.”
I tilt the mixing bowl in his direction. “You don’t have to be. I’m about to have waffles.”
His eyes light up.
I grin. “You want some?”
He clasps his hands behind his back. “Well, seeing as I’m here.”
“I’m glad you’re here. My parents already ate, and it feels kinda sad to have waffles alone.”
Parker steps around the counter. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I’m suddenly reminded of being inside Lewis’s house yesterday. When I suggested our dads might need help, Lewis couldn’t have backed away fast enough.
“Umm, you want to help?”
“It feels rude to expect you to serve them up to me.”
I point at a cupboard. “Can you pull the waffle maker out of there? I still have a few ingredients to add, but it’ll need to heat up in the meantime.”
Parker crouches, opening the cupboard. He lingers before looking up at me. “There’s a lot of machines in here.”
