Page 64 of The Beach Shack Summer
“Right? And they were so proud of it too. ‘Aussie-Mex fusion’ they called it.”
Tyler shook his head solemnly. “I’ve probably eaten thousands of tacos in my life. Real ones, from trucks and holes-in-the-wall and abuela’s kitchens. Never once seen a beetroot anywhere near one.”
“What about pineapple?”
“That’s... complicated. Real al pastor has some, but it’s a whole thing.”
“Everything’s complicated with you and food.” Stella studied him. “For someone who can barely make grilled cheese without Margo’s supervision, you sure know a lot about eating.”
“Hey, I’m an expert eater. Professional level. It’s the cooking part that gets tricky.”
“Right. That’s why Meg hides her good leftovers behind your expired yogurt.”
“She does not—” Tyler paused. “She does?”
“Behind the yogurt from March. She knows you won’t touch it.”
Tyler looked genuinely betrayed. “I thought I was just really bad at finding things.”
“You are. But she also strategically hides them.”
“Huh.” Stella looked at her burrito with new respect. “Mum said the Mexican food here would ruin me for Sydney’s version.”
“She was right about that.” Tyler picked up his burrito again. “Welcome to real Mexican food.”
“Important moment then.” She held up the developing Polaroid. “Evidence of my first proper burrito experience. For historical documentation.”
“Yeah,” Tyler managed. “Important.”
By the time they got home, Meg was on the front porch with her laptop, apparently exiled from the house.
“Printer died,” she explained. “Needed quiet to troubleshoot. How was dawn patrol?”
“Good.” Stella held up the camera. “Got a Polaroid.”
“Nice! Take my picture. I need proof I lived through this deadline.”
Stella’s third shot: Meg surrounded by technology on the porch, looking frazzled but smiling.
“We’re getting you out of the house today,” Tyler said. “This is ridiculous.”
“After my presentation. Then we’ll figure something out.”
“We better,” Stella said, heading inside. “I need somewhere to put my pictures.”
Tyler waited until she was gone, then sat next to Meg on the steps.
“She called me Dad,” he said quietly.
“Really?” Meg’s eyes widened. “When?”
“At breakfast. Just... dropped it in there like it was normal.”
“That’s huge, Tyler.”
“What do I do with that?”
“Nothing. Everything. Just... be her dad.”
