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“She’s a three-year-old, and it had chocolate in it. What do you think?”
“I think someone needs to cut out your tongue, Mr. Snarky.”
“Says you, Little Miss Delight.” I grinned. “What a pleasant Sunday afternoon conversation this is.”
She rolled her eyes so hard I actually heard them spin in their sockets. “Is this what I can expect now? To no longer get peace on a sunny Sunday afternoon?”
“I don’t get peace on any kind of Sunday afternoon.”
“Yes, but you literally created your peace destroyer.”
True story. “I suppose. As far as they go, though, she’s a pretty cute one.”
“Far cuter than my peace destroyer,” she said dryly. “Where is she now?”
“Napping with the puppy.”
“Let me guess: they tired themselves out running around like hooligans in the backyard?”
I winced. “They didn’t disturb you, did they?”
She shook her head, sending her loose bun flopping side to side on top of her head. “It’s a kid and a puppy. It’s not like an army of hungry zombie toddlers who are descending on the world.”
“I can’t think of anything worse. One hungry toddler is bad enough.”
“If she’s as bad as Grandma, I sympathize whole-heartedly. She cries when she wants a snack, too, but it’s usually because she’s watching Netflix.”
“Look at that. Toddlers and the elderly are pretty much the same after all.” I smirked. “Maya knows exactly where her snacks are, but Peppa Pig is usually too interesting to get them herself.”
She visibly shuddered. “I hate Peppa Pig.”
“You know who Peppa Pig is?”
“I wish I didn’t,” she drawled, putting her feet down and resting the sketchbook on her knees. “When I started the ceramics classes, I had to get familiar with all kinds of TV characters from kids shows. Peppa is one that so many of my kids have painted, and I hate her with a passion.”
“If I was close enough to high five you, I would.” I shook my head. “She’s the worst. At least I broke her out of Calliou before that went too far.”
“Ugh. He’s a little bastard. Not that Peppa is a stand-up member of society, but Calliou is a real dick.”
“You know way too much about this stuff for someone without kids.”
“Trust me, I hate myself every day,” she said. “Especially when the songs get stuck in my head. I put playlists on quietly when we’re in class and I had to ban everyone from singing the Baby Shark song because it would stick in my head all week, then I’d finally get rid of it by Friday only to get it back twenty-four hours later. It’s like Circles by Post Malone or that Old Town Road song. Talk about earworms.”
“The only song I know in all that is Baby Shark. I really need to get out more.”
“Good luck. The only getting out you’re doing is with your puppy.”
I groaned. “I know. I should have known I was in trouble the moment Fran said ‘shelter.’”
Immy smirked. “How did you get roped into that?”
I sighed. “I forgot I was having her for an extra couple of days while Fran and Matt are on vacation. I think she’d forgotten, too, because she said her mom takes Maya to the shelter every Thursday for this free-play thing they do for kids. Long story short, I’m a soft touch.”
Her laughter rang out loudly, and she dropped her head back.
She had a fucking magic laugh.
It was so fucking annoying.
“Yeah, all right.” She rolled her eyes again, but there was some amusement still shining in them.
I knew she didn’t totally hate me.
In fact, I didn’t think she hated me at all.
She pretended to, but she really couldn’t.
Nobody who laughed like that at someone could hate them.
That gave me hope. Hope that we could be friends, at least. Hope that we could turn this prank war into something more like we used to.
Maybe it was stupid to compare everything to the past. We weren’t the same people we were back then, she was right. I had a daughter, and she ran a business. But yet, at the same time, we weren’t all that different, either.
Her eyes were the same blue, her hair the same curly blonde that was either wild and free or wild and thrown into a bun. She still stuck her tongue out at the side when she was concentrating on her art, and her smile still had the ability to make my insides flip all around like a piece of paper in a tornado.
Immy sighed, and right as she was about to stand, her front door opened. Jen exploded out in a rainbow tie-dye dress that was straight out of the Sixties. That or she’d tied some hair ties around it and dipped it in the fabric dye herself.
I wouldn’t put the latter past her. It was the kind of thing she’d do.
“Mason!” She threw her arms out. “Do you like cheesecake?”
