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I smile and run my hand over her blond, wavy hair, turning back to the griddle and pouring some of the mixture onto it.
“We having pancakes?” Izzie asks and I turn to face her, relishing in the smile on her face and the fist pump she does when I nod. “I love pancakes, did you know that, Daddy? They’re my favorite, especially with cream and chocolate sauce.”
“Is that right?” I chuckle.
“Uh huh!” She nods emphatically. “My tummy is sooo ready for pancakes!”
I snort at her face and the way she rubs her tummy, looking down and talking to it. I flip the pancakes over as Clay stumbles into the kitchen, a book in his hands.
“Morning, Clay.”
“Morning,” he mumbles back, climbing up onto the stool next to Izzie and opening his book.
“Daddy’s making pancakes!” Izzie tells him.
“I can see, I do have eyes,” he mumbles, not looking up from his page.
“Clay,” I warn. “What do you want on top?” I ask him, trying to get his attention.
He doesn’t answer me so I take the pancakes off the griddle when they’re ready, piling them all up on a big plate and bringing them over along with chocolate sauce for Izzie.
“Put that away, Clayton,” I say in my no-nonsense tone.
He huffs and slams his book closed, pushing it away and folding his arms over his chest. His gray eyes narrow underneath his glasses, but I can’t take him seriously with all of his light brown hair sticking up in different directions.
“What topping do you want?” I ask again.
“Chocolate,” he mumbles.
“Ah! He speaks! Did you hear that, Izzie?” I ask, ruffling his hair and making it look worse as I place three pancakes on his plate.
She nods and giggles, bouncing up and down in her seat before grabbing the sauce and turning it upside down, pouring half of the bottle over her pancakes.
“That’s enough there, little miss sugar.”
She sticks her tongue out at me while picking up the can of whipped cream, giggling again when it makes a noise as it sprays out of the bottle and then she scoops a spoonful up, trying to get it all into her mouth but ending up with half of it on her face.
I catch Clay’s gaze as he shakes his head slowly, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth as he silently tells me not to tell her that she has cream on her face. I wink in reply and he dips his head, hiding the full smirk that is now on his face, but I see it and it makes my heart beam.
He can be a loner at times, not wanting to interact with people, and I blame myself partly for that. Had I been more active with him when he was Izzie’s age; if I would have made a conscious effort to spend time with him instead of locking myself away in grief and panic, then maybe he wouldn’t be this way.
That’s on me and I plan to change that as of now.
Once we’ve all had our fill of pancakes, I clear the plates and pull open the kitchen drawer, lifting the flyer out and holding it up in the air.
“So… there’s this new art workshop that has opened especially for kids, who wants to go?”
“Me!” Izzie practically screams, her hand shooting up in the air.
“I’ll stay home with Amelia,” Clay grunts, holding his head in his hands.
“No,” I say, my lips spreading into a grim line. “You can’t stay home, you’re going to go to this class and have some fun.”
“I hate art.”
“Is that so?” I ask, stepping forward. “What about that?” I point to the book on the counter. He looks down at it and then back up to me, a frown on his face. “You know that’s a kind of art, right?”
“I want to paint a pretty picture for Edward,” Izzie says, trying to hop down from the stool. I help her down and listen to her as she looks up at me, her head tilted all the way back as she tries to meet my eyes. “He can put it in his car, can’t he, Daddy?”
