I let out a soft breath of laughter. “That’s called being polite and showing good manners,” I tell her. “Being thankful and giving thanks is a little different.”
Her brow creases adorably as she frowns up at me in confusion. “How?”
“Well, being thankful is about appreciating all the things and people you love. Everything that brings you happiness and makes you the incredible person you are.”
Her eyes widen. “There lots...”
“I’m sure there are.”
With a sheepish smile she starts listing things off. “I thankful forBluey.I thankful for Santa. I thankful for Jazz…”
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. I guess if I have to settle for bronze I can at least take comfort from being bested by those two big guns.
Izzy is still rattling off things she’s thankful for when we step into my apartment. I don’t think I’ll mention to Dad that he wasseventeenth on the list, being beaten out by both his kids, his boyfriend, his mother-in-law, the nanny, Piper’s dog, and such items as baths, rainbows, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and goldfish crackers. Only RJ—who is yet to even get a mention—has fared worse.
“I think that might be enough thankfulness for now,” I tell Izzy, helping her out of her coat. “What do you think about mac and cheese for dinner?”
She beams up at me. “My favorite! I thankful for mac and cheese.”
I chuckle softly and stride into the kitchen. Swinging open the pantry doors, I reach up to retrieve a large plastic container full of dried pasta.
“I have a problem,” I tell Izzy, walking over to the dining table and setting the container down. “And I’m going to need your help to fix it.”
“Fix how?” she asks curiously, wandering over for a look.
I lift the lid of the container and fish out a handful of the pasta so she can see the issue. “Somehow all the different kinds of noodles have been mixed up together,” I say grimly. “We’ll need to sort them out if we want to make mac and cheese tonight.”
An aghast expression consumes Izzy’s little face as she eyes the mess in my palm. There are five different types of pasta—little bows, wagon wheels, shells, spirals, and elbows—and they got mixed up like this because I emptied five packets of pasta into the container and shook it around like crazy.
I hada feeling Izzy might be a bit keyed up after school and sorting is a great way to help her settle down and direct her focus. Hopefully half an hour or so of this will help make her speech therapy session go a little smoother.
“Do you think you can help me?” I ask, hitting her with an entreating look.
She nods solemnly. “I help.”
“Alright…” I shake the contents of container out onto the table’s surface, careful not to send noodles flying onto the floor. “What noodles do you want for the mac and cheese?” I ask Izzy as I use my hand to spread the noodles out across the table.
“I like bows.”
I nod. “Okay then, let’s look for the bows first.” I stride back to the kitchen and retrieve a saucepan from the drawer under the stove. “We can put the bows in here.”
We’remaking pretty good progress when my phone starts buzzing about twenty minutes later. Retrieving it from my pocket, I see it’s an incoming FaceTime call from Star; I’m pretty sure I know what this is about so I rise from my chair and give Izzy’s braided hair a pat.
“I need to talk to Star about some grown-up stuff for a second. Keep going—you’re doing really well.”
“I help,” she says proudly.
I grin at her and place a hand over my heart. “Princess, I’d be lost without you.”
Leaving her at the table, I disappear down the hallway and into my room before answering the call.
“Uh,finally,” Star huffs when I answer the call. Before I have a chance to get a word in, she plows on, “What the fuck is going on with you and Cody? I spent most of yesterday talking Jace out of flying across the country to “have a few words with you”.” Her expression and the air quotes make it pretty clear that she’s saved me from more than an awkward conversation with my buddy, who happens to be a professional boxer.
And, yeah, I’m definitely glad I took the opportunity to relocate before answering the call.
I offer a wry quirk of my lips. “Thanks for the rescue. Wish I could say I’m surprised it was necessary but…” I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “Whatever. Everyone has their blind spots, I guess.”
“He’ll get over it,” she says with a wave of reassurance. “You know what he’s like—short fuse, burns out quick. You’ll do the whole “sorry, bro” thing and hug it out on the weekend and then everything will be back to normal.”
