I raise my arm, trying to frame both us and as much of the house as I can manage. We smile, and I take the photo, holding on to Makenna a moment longer than necessary before opening it to show her.
“Not bad.” She smiles as she looks at the photo. “Can I send this to myself?”
I panic and take the phone. I can’t have her seeing my family chat. “I’ll do it.”
Makenna looks at me a bit funny, but gets over it quickly, and gives me her number. Once the photo is sent, I share it with my family as well. Three responses almost instantly appear.
ISLA
Oh. She is lovely.
AILSA
You two look like a couple. Really. And she’s tall!
FIONA
Please don’t count her out. You never know. She’s giving me all the good vibes just in this picture!
I’m about to slide my phone back into my pocket when one more text comes through.
DA
You never know.
19
Makenna
“Canwestepinhere? I read they have safe gluten-free things. They may have gluten-free scones we can use instead of me having to fool with biscuits.”
“Not a big biscuit maker?” Malcolm asks, opening the door to the bakery.
“They’re just more work when they’re gluten-free, and the outcome varies.” I grin up at him. “At least for me. Plus, when you find safe things at a bakery, you have to try them! Especially when on vacation,” I add as I take in the store before me. It’s beautiful and whimsical in a way that’s subtle and just right for me. And the smell. I’m actually more of a savory girl, but evenIthink this smell might be a teaser of heaven. I spot a separate case marked “gluten-free” and head straight for it, Malcolm onmy heels.
“You won’t make me jealous if you get something regular,” I say over my shoulder. “I’m used to it at this point.”
“That’s a wee bit sad.”
I shrug. It is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve grown in that way since the first few years after my diagnosis.
Malcolm stays by my side. He doesn’t wander off to get himself a tasty gluten-filled treat. Maybe he’s not a big sweets person either.
“What can I get for you, dearie?” The older woman behind the counter asks. She’s wearing a sky-blue apron with white ruffles, and the most grandmotherly smile I’ve ever seen.
I look down at the case, and they do have scones, but they’re blueberry. “I was looking for plain scones.”
“You’re in luck. Some just came out of the oven. Give me just a sec.”
I look at Malcolm and silently cheer with my face and arms. His deep laugh booms around the small space, then he looks at me thoughtfully before turning his eyes back to the case.
“This place is so expensive,” he says. “Although, so was the food I got you at the store.”
“I can pay you back for those—”
“No. No, that’s not why I mentioned it. It’s just … is it always like this?”
“Pretty much always.”
