“Bring the rest to Ma’s.”
“Pff.”
“What?” He jerks his chin up.
“If you keep showing up with food from me, they’ll think I’m trying to impress them.”
“They were impressed with your cupcakes. All of them were.”
“All of them?” I ask, arranging the bacon strips in the hot pan. “Who’s all of them?”
“Ma, Baka, Julian, Roman, and Luka. Also Aunt Ivana and Prabaka. We sent some to them, too. Everyone liked them. Everybody got one of each and then they fought over the rest. The lemon ones were the hit but apparently the orange ones were nothin’ to scoff at either.”
“Which one did you like most?” I ask, moving bacon around with tongs.
“I didn’t get any.”
I laugh, finding that funny.
“They ate them all, told me to get you to make more.”
I bite my lip and move to the griddle to check the pancakes.
“Maybe you’ll bless me with another batch sometime soon.”
“Or maybe you’ll just have to wonder forever what you missed out on.”
He smiles. “You wouldn’t be so cruel, would you?”
I shrug. “Depends.”
“Well, I fuckin’ dug the pink and the blue ones so at least if I never get to try the others, I have those memories. Where’d you learn to make those. Ever work in a bakery?”
I shake my head. “A good friend of mine from back in the day worked at her parents’ bakery. She taught me.”
“Yeah? Where’s this bakery?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I mutter and then I remove some pancakes from the griddle to the serving platter and scrape more butter into the pan, swooshing it around with my spatula.
He chuckles. “What about those pancakes?” He comes over and examines them. “They smell good. Where’d you learn to make those? Same friend?”
I shake my head. “My dad.” And then it feels like there’s a giant lump in my throat. I hold back the emotion.
Jude’s eyes soften.
“Can’t wait to try them,” he says and presses his lips to my forehead.
And I hate that he knows how I feel right now. That he knows what it’s like to lose your father – to lose your dad in any way, shape or form is horrible but prematurely? Violently? I resist the urge to sink into him. Instead, I work the melted butter around the pan with my spatula some more and then quickly scoop batter in eight portions onto the griddle for the second-last batch.
The bacon is spitting up a storm. I cuss under my breath, but Jude to the rescue. He moves to the stove and takes care of the bacon while I take a minute with my emotions and my pancakes.
A few minutes later, we’re eating banana chocolate chip pancakes with maple syrup, butter, and whipped cream on top. And Jude is making sexy approval noises while he eats. Those are similar noises to the ones he made when I went down on him this morning. My face heats in memory. That was fun.
“Judging by those noises, I guess you like my pancakes,” I say.
He leans over, licking whipped cream from his upper lip and kisses me. “Fishin’ for compliments? How’s this? I could eat these pancakes every Sunday morning for the rest of my fucking life.”
And then he laughs. “Don’t look so scared. You make me a batch of cupcakes once or twice a month and a batch of these on Sundays and I’ll do the rest of the cooking. And the dishes. Deal?” He holds a hand out.
“Fuck off,” I mumble, forking into more pancakes but my face is scarlet, I know it.
What a deal that would be. A husband who did all the cooking. Who dealt with any messes I made. Who was big enough, strong enough, and badass enough to protect me and any gorgeous babies we made? I shake that thought off.
Bad Ally … stop imagining things you cannot possibly have.
23
Ally
This is a bad idea. A bad, bad idea. But story of my life: one bad idea after another.
We pull up to a low-rise four-storey brick apartment building in his SUV.
He gets out and reaches into the back seat for the disposable foil container filled with pancakes and the bottle of maple syrup along with the can of whipped cream and then he’s to my door before I’m out.
He reaches to open the door and I hit the lock button.
He frowns and takes in what’s probably my panicked drama queen face.
“It’s gonna be fine. Don’t be nervous.”
I pout.
He presses the button on his SUV fob and the door unlocks so he opens it and holds his free hand out. I take it and step down with a sigh.
I’m dressed like a semi-normal person today, wearing my blue with white polka dot halter top sundress with the full skirt. No funky tights today, instead I’ve got bare legs and my hair is in a headband, pushed back from my face. I’m even wearing normal-ish makeup. My nails, however, are black. And I’ve got sexy sandals on, with my pedicure done in multiple colors.