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Immy’s eyes widened, and she shook her head, quickly making a cut-throat motion across her neck.
“I, uh, um.” I looked between them both frantically. “I guess.”
Immy covered her eyes with her hand.
“Excellent! I’ll make one!” She clapped her hands together and spun on her heel, turning back into the house like I’d just told her she could cater a wedding.
“Oh, God,” Immy breathed. “She’s watching way too many baking shows these days.”
“It’s just a cheesecake,” I said, shrugging one shoulder.
“A cheesecake she’ll force me to bring to your front door.”
“So? If you do it with a smile, I’ll let you have a slice.” I pushed off the porch railing with a wink and, ignoring her pouty glare, said, “I’ll see you tomorrow with my cheesecake.”
“I’m going to throw it at you!”
I snorted. “Not likely with your aim.”
***
The pops of the popcorn from the microwave bounced off the sides of the machine, and Maya bounced excitedly in front of it, waiting for my word to hit the button to make it stop.
“Pop pop pop pop pop!”
Maya’s pops also bounced off the sides—of the room.
That was par the course for her, though. Children didn’t come with a volume switch, much to my chagrin sometimes. Like when I was trying to take a shit this morning, and she was sitting in the doorway—with the fucking door open because why not?—while enacting out an entire episode of Peppa Pig with her toy figures.
I still wasn’t sure I could feel the entirety of my feet after that.
The distinct smell of burning came from the microwave, and it set off the super-sensitive fire alarm in the hallway within seconds.
That thing was moving from the counter near the door.
“Now!” I yelled.
“Oh no! My popcorn!” Maya darted forward and jammed two fingers into the button that released the door. It whipped open, quicker than she could move, and the door slammed into her nose.
Maya let out the most almighty scream right as four loud knocks sounded at the door.
Of fucking course.
I scooped her up against my body, holding her tight to me, and moved for the door. The kitchen was filling with dark smoke from the burned popcorn, singed crap filled the air, and the fire alarm was blaring like the zombie apocalypse was upon us.
Immy stood on the other side, both hands grasping a plate in front of her. She had paint on her forehead that stretched onto her blonde hair, and her blue eyes were as wide as saucers. “Is this a bad time?”
“Shut up,” I muttered, wrapping my hand around Maya’s head as she cried into my shoulder. “Do me a favor and shut that alarm off.”
Immy nodded quickly, depositing the plate on the nearest surface. She reached on her tiptoes and pressed the button on the fire alarm, cutting out the high-pitched, soul-grating noise that erupted from it.
“Thank God,” I breathed, rocking Maya from side to side.
“What on Earth happened over here?” Immy asked, looking around. “Why is your kitchen smoking?”
“Pop in the bag popcorn,” I explained. “I didn’t pay attention; the door hit her in the face, the alarm went off…”
“Oh, my God. Is she okay?”
Based on the noise that was wailing out of Maya, the answer was no. But then again, I’d heard a similar noise when Netflix put up the ‘Are you still watching this?’ message one hour into a Peppa Pig marathon, so who knew?
“Hey, princess. Let me take a look.” I carried her through into the living room where the disaster had woken Dolly from her nap and set Maya on the sofa.
Maya’s bottom lip was jutted so far forward it may as well have been attached to her nose, and I cupped her chin so I could take a look.
It was a little red, but that could have been because she was crying so much.
Dolly whimpered repeatedly, showing all the signs of needing the bathroom, and Immy moved to the patio doors to let her out. She didn’t move. Instead, she sat here, whimpering at the open space.
“Out.” Immy scooped up the puppy and set her on the back porch, then slammed the door shut.
I shot her a half-smile before I turned to Maya. “Thanks.”
She nodded as if to say ‘no problem.’ “Can I do anything to help?”
“Yeah, could you get another bag of popcorn from the cupboard over the microwave and put it in there?”
“Without burning it, right?”
“That would be helpful.”
She smiled, and for a moment, it twitched into a full-blown grin before she got control of it and turned away. She rolled her shoulders right as she disappeared through the kitchen door.
Maya sniffed and finally let go of the death grip she had on my shirt, slinking back onto the sofa. “Hurts, Dadda.”
“I know. Come here.” I cupped her little face and kissed the tip of her nose. “Is that better?”
