I study the pancakes before Finn lifts them out.
“That’s not going well either,” Chloe stage whispers.
I chuckle.
Finn laughs outright.
“Should I try?” I offer.
“Have at it.” Finn passes me the container with the batter. “I’ll finish up the eggs.”
“Make a turtle, Daddy!” Chloe demands.
“I thought we were trying for cats.”
“I have them already,” she says, lifting one of the misshapen attempts in my direction. “See? Meow!”
More laughter from Finn as she cracks eggs.
Chloe, meanwhile, starts eating the “cat’s” ears.
And I do my best to make a turtle.
(Spoiler alert: it ends up looking like a lump.)
Luckily, it still tastes good, and later, as we gather around the table with our oddly shaped, but delicious cinnamon pancakes and the delicately scrambled eggs, I’m not thinking about Finn leaving.
I’m thinking how good it feels to have her here right now.
Twenty-Seven
Finn
Chloe is studying me.
And doing it intensely enough that I can feel the little laser beams of her gaze drilling into the back of my head.
I keep my eyes on the road.
Mostly because I’m driving.
Partly because I know that look.
It’s the same one she gets when she’s about to ask me a question that will send me scrambling for an answer.
Why don’t cats wear shoes?
Can mermaids drown?
Where do babies come from?
Why did Maggie’s parents get a divorce?
What is a divorce, anyway?
Why are Black Bears brown sometimes?
What’s 612 times 897?
