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It makes me laugh. “I can, in fact, make the fluffiest, most delicious pancakes you’ve ever had. After I’ve had a few sips of my coffee.” I wink before grabbing my mug and taking a drink.
“Eww, you drink it black?” She makes a gagging noise. “We have a milk frother and flavored syrups, you know.”
“Nah, I’m not one for the fancy stuff. Just black.” I step over to the fridge and pull out some milk, eggs, and butter, then find the dry ingredients for the pancakes.
“I’ll show you where the pans are if you let me help,” she says.
“Of course. Who else is going to mix the ingredients?”
She grabs a small stool from the pantry and brings it over to the counter next to me. It’s only now that I’m realizing how small she really is. I don’t know much about 10-year-olds, but if I had to guess, she’s probably on the shorter side. It probably comes from her petite mother. She helps me crack the eggs and mix the batter until the pan is hot.
“Okay, just a quarter cup of batter per pancake. And do you know the rule about when to flip?”
“Not until little bubbles form on the top.”
“Exactly,” I say, holding up my hand for a high five.
We chat while we cook the pancakes, and she tells me about how excited she is for her first day of fifth grade on Monday, and how she’s beyond ready to be out of elementary school and into middle school.
“Mom says the first pancake is the tester,” she says, taking a bite of it before holding it out toward me. I take a bite and we both agree that I was right: These are by far the best pancakes.
“Lately, I’ve really been sad about being an only child,” Chloe says completely unprompted as I take a big bite of my pancakes.
“Oh?” I nod, chewing slowly before choking down the bite. I am completely out of my element here. I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t know if she’s had this conversation with her mother . . . not to mention, if her motherwantsmore kids, if she canhavemore kids. “I had a brother.” I had no intention of bringing Zane up, but in the moment, it seemed like the only safe bet.
“Had? What happened to him?” She’s a bright kid—doesn’t let anything slip by.
I’m about to answer when Juliette’s voice startles me.
“Chloe? What are you doing?” She rushes over to where we’re seated at the island eating our breakfast.
“We made pancakes,” she says happily. “Try them; they’re so good,” she continues, holding out a forkful toward her mother, who scowls.
“No, thank you, sweetie. Are you finished? Why don’t you run upstairs and take a shower? You have your class at the library later this morning.”
I don’t have to be a genius to see that Juliette is not happy. I had hoped that things would be better this morning, but maybe I overstepped my welcome by making pancakes.
“Sorry,” I say, standing up. “I’ll clean things up and let you two get on with your day.” I grab my plate and walk over to the sink as Chloe finishes up her last few bites.
“Please don’t just leave everything in the sink.”
“Mom, don’t be mean to him.”
I have to physically bite the inside of my cheek as I wash off my plate.
“I wasn’t being mean, sweetie, I just want him to be clear on how we do things around here. After meals, dishes are put into the dishwasher and run.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a nod before putting the dishes in the dishwasher. I take Chloe’s plate when she’s done and repeat the process as she runs out of the kitchen and upstairs.
“I don’t know what you think this is, but it’s notthis.”I turn around and the scowl is back on Juliette’s face. “We aren’t playing house. I don’t want my daughter thinking you’re her new normal, because when you leave—hopefully soon—it will just be confusing to her.”
I lean against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. “And how should I go about this, Juliette? I turned around this morning and Chloe was standing there. I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary by making her breakfast. I can avoid doing that again, but how am I supposed to handle a little 10-year-old girl talking to me? Should I just ignore her? Tell her to go away?” She might think I’m being an ass, but it’s a legitimate question.
She opens her mouth to respond then snaps it shut. “I don’t know,” she finally says, pulling her robe tighter against her body. “I just don’t want her getting hurt in all this.”
“And she won’t,” I say, stepping toward her. “I meant it when I said I’m not like the other men in your life. I’m not here to trick her or you. I’m not pretending I’ll be around forever. She’s a kid who has a lot of questions, and I don’t mind answering them for her if I have an answer. Just be honest with her. After all, she knows Luka and Jimmy. Just tell her I’ll be around for a little while. She’s old enough to understand we aren’t a couple.”
She nods her head. “Yeah, I guess so.”
