He seems surprised. “Did the Keurig not work?”
My cheeks heat. “I don’t know how to use it.”
“Really? Well, I’ll fix that before the day is through.”
Georgie bounds into the kitchen, pulling a barstool out next to me and reaching for an orange from a basket. “Hi. Sorry about that. I was racing.”
Fletcher chuckles, shaking his head fondly at his daughter. “She’s obsessed with Mario Kart lately.”
He says this like it’s supposed to mean something.
“I’m sorry. Mario Kart?”
They both blink at me.
“You don’t know what Mario Kart is?” Georgie asks, dumbfounded.
“Should I?”
Her jaw drops and she slowly turns to her father. “Seriously, what rock did you find this guy under?”
Fletcher bursts out laughing before he can control himself. “Georgie, be nice.” He pulls the plate out of the microwave before explaining. “It’s a video game on the Nintendo Switch. It’s quite fun, actually. We can all play together.”
He adds a couple of muffins to the plate before sliding it over to me. “Do you work tonight?”
My feet scream in agony just thinking about another nine-hour shift. “Yeah, I go in at three.”
“Great. I’ll drive you.” He turns to Georgie. “But that means you and I are going to the four o’clock movie then.”
She sighs. “I was hoping for the 2:30 show.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure the movie will be the exact same if it starts at four.”
I almost laugh at his dry sarcasm.
“But if we go at four, Avalon won’t be able to go. She has to be home at six for her family dinner.”
Fletcher seems almost happy about this, but Georgie doesn’t notice. Her attention is on the orange in her hand. “We’ll still have fun, hon. I promise. I’m still taking you to pizza after too.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Fine.” She turns to me. “Anyway, want to learn the game later? I can teach you.”
I hesitate. “Maybe.”
I sit on a barstool, listening to her chatter about her favorite tracks and kart styles. It goes right over my head.
The quiche is a bit too plain for my taste, but it’s still delicious. It makes me miss the spicy hashbrown and pepper casserole I used to make. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve thrown thattogether. Maybe I can make it for them soon, as a thank-you for letting me stay here.
After peeling her orange, Georgie dumps the rind into the trash before carrying the fruit out of the room. “I’m going to call Avalon.”
Fletcher smirks, watching her go. “Teenagers,” he whispers. “I swear, they’d dissolve into dust if they weren’t constantly doing something.”
I wouldn’t know. I’m not around them enough, and my own teenage years are probably not the best comparison. We moved around too much for me to make friends.
“I was thinking we could load your fridge this morning. I have some—”
“I can get my own food,” I cut in.
Fletcher pauses. “I know, but I just figured it would be easier if we did it together.”
