I narrow my eyes and look at Beckett. “Someone told me you’re crazy about bananas.”
Beckett gives me a mischievous smile.
Oh, no.
“I love bananas,” Alex says. “But I don’t like banana…things.”
“Bananathings?” I repeat.
“Things made with bananas. Like banana pudding.”
I look at Beckett, a hand on my hip. “I wonder if this person knew that.”
Alex also looks at Beckett. “I think that person did. And I’m guessing that person really likes your banana pudding and was hoping to snag it when I didn’t want it.”
“He does, as a matter of fact,” I say, my eyes on Beckett as I push the bowl toward Teddy. “Everyone does.”
“Oh well, if you insist. I mean, if you’re not going to eat it,” Teddy says to Alex, grabbing the bowl and cradling it against his chest. “Well, I gotta go. See you all tomorrow.” And then he’s off his stool and out of the shop before anyone can stop him.
BeforeBeckettcan stop him.
“That was cruel,” Beckett says, staring after Teddy.
“Yes, it was,” I say, smacking his arm. I look at Alex. “I’m sorry. I was led to believe that my pudding would be the perfect treat after your first scrimmage.”
“It’s…fine,” Alex says. He looks very uncomfortable suddenly.
“Okay, then I gotta get outta here too,” Zeke says. “There are rules at my house for how long any single adult has to be alone with our twins. Letting them outnumber you is never a good idea.”
Everyone chuckles and starts to move to leave as well. The plates all have only crumbs left, and Beckett is even closing his notes app on his phone.
“You’re leaving too?” Alex asks.
Beckett stretches to his feet. “Got work early, man. Actually, I was gonna ask you if you’ve got anything big going on tomorrow.”
Alex shakes his head. “No. What do you have in mind?”
“I need to head into New Orleans and pick up a new stove for someone. I could use an extra hand.”
“I could do that,” Alex says.
“Great. I’ll meet you down here for breakfast.”
Everyone heads out, stopping here and there to chat with people on the way to the door.
Leaving just Alex and me.
“Let me get you something else,” I say, turning away.
“Wildflower.”
That name always makes my stomach flip. I turn back. “Yeah?”
He looks like he wants to say something important, but he just says, “Thanks.”
“Be right back.”
When I get back to the table with a club sandwich, he’s hunched over his phone, frowning as he types.
