Page 48 of The Maine Event

I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. But be warned, I will think a lot less of you if you don’t choose maple syrup as one of the sauces.”

Chloe giggles, tapping her chin in thought. “It might be too early for that much sugar. I think I might stick to fruit. Maybe blueberries and kiwi.”

“Smart thinking,” I say, setting my menu aside. “Why don’t you choose for me too, little miss sensible?”

As we wait for our order, I take a sip of coffee and glance at her. “So, tell me something. What’s the best thing about being twelve?”

She tilts her head, considering the question. “I was allowed a phone. That’s pretty cool. And, I guess… that I get to do more stuff on my own? But also… that kind of makes it harder too.”

I nod. “I get that. You’re old enough to know what you want, but people still treat you like a kid.”

“Exactly!” She leans forward, resting her arms on the table. “Like, I want to do things by myself, but I also want Dad to be there… just in case. But not in a ‘hovering’ way.”

“So… present, but not too present?”

“Yeah.” She sighs dramatically. “It’s a very delicate balance.”

I chuckle. “Sounds exhausting.”

She grins. “It really is.”

I stir my coffee absentmindedly, watching as she fidgets with a napkin. It’s a small thing, but I can tell there’s something on her mind.

So, instead of diving in with a heavy-handed question, I nudge her silverware toward her. “Okay, serious question. What’s your take on diner forks? Too heavy, or just right?”

Chloe picks one up, turning it over in her hands like she’s assessing a precious artifact.

“Hmm… a little heavy. But also sturdy, you know?”

I nod, solemn. “Exactly. You don’t want a flimsy fork. Not with pancakes at stake.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “You’re kind of weird.”

“True,” I admit, “but you laughed, so technically that makes you weird too.”

She huffs, pretending to be outraged, but I see the smile she’s trying to fight.

The server drops off our plates, and just like that, everything else melts away.

Chloe digs into her pancakes like she hasn’t eaten in days, the earlier stress in her shoulders gone. She takes a huge bite, then lets out an exaggerated groan of happiness.

“Ohhh my gosh. These are so good.”

“Better than peanut butter?” I tease.

She chews thoughtfully, then nods. “Probably. But don’t tell the peanut butter I said that.”

“My lips are sealed.”

She grins, licking a piece of kiwi off her thumb. “You’re okay, you know that?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Wow. That’s the highest honor I’ve ever received from a twelve-year-old.”

She rolls her eyes but laughs, and I can’t help but feel… something shift between us.

Like maybe we’re not just two people in a diner anymore.

Maybe we’re friends.

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