Page 39 of Situationship
She was expected at Seaside Sandwiches in thirty minutes to pitch her rolls, Poppy was refusing to wear anything but pajama bottoms, and Lily was still refusing to talk to anyone except Poppy.And. . . bringing her super-fun morning full circle, Teagan was so tired from baking cupcakes for the entire preschool class, she’d accidentally miscounted her sandwich rolls, leaving her short product for her big meeting. Seaside Sandwiches would be her first commercial account if she landed it.
She’d sell her best push-up bra for another adult to help her get through the morning. Sadly, her push-up bra was in the dirty clothes hamper and Harley wasn’t well versed in adulting. After volunteering to drive the girls to school, Harley had pulled a Houdini, flaking on her promise, and leaving Teagan to keep their little world spinning—alone.
To that point, she was finishing up the girls’ lunches when a piece of waffle hit her square in the chest.
“Whoa, hey. We don’t throw,” she scolded. Lily proved her wrong by throwing another piece of her precut, Mickey-shaped waffle onto the floor, where Garbage Disposal inhaled it in one breath. “What is going on?”
Lily tapped her sister on the arm. Her sister looked over and they did that silent communicate-through-the-ether thing.
“We don’t like waffles,” Poppy explained, and Lily crossed her arms in defiance.
“You love waffles.”
“Nots your waffles. We likes Daddy’s waffles.” As if she weren’t having a bad enough morning. Being compared to the most irresponsible person in her life and coming up short was more than a little upsetting.
It was gutting.
She looked at the ceiling and did some rapid blinking. She didn’t have time for a breakdown, not to mention processing how, even though Frank was absent, he still managed to be the good cop. Today, she needed to appear personable and professional, sell herself as a baking goddess who made deals happen. At this point, she’d settle for anything that didn’t resemble a frazzled, overworked, single mom who couldn’t even count to ten.
“Everyone tackles things differently. For example, waffles,” she said, reminding herself of her vow never, ever to talk trash about Frank—even when he made it so easy. “Just because I make them differently from your dad doesn’t mean mine aren’t good. Or that his are better. We’re just different waffle makers who both love you with all of our hearts.”
Lily whispered into Poppy’s ear. Poppy said, “We want cheesy poofs!”
Teagan took in a deep, calming, recentering breath. Oh, to live in a world where the balance hung on one’s ability to secure cheesy poofs. “They are not a breakfast food. Cheesy poofs are a snack food. And snacks are eaten after—”
“Then Pop-Tarts.”
“Again, a snack not a meal.” They weren’t even on the approved snack list.
“Auntie Harley lets us have Pop-Tarts for breakfast,” Poppy informed her. Lily’s stare went allTell herand Poppy added, “With Kool-Aid.”
“Well, I’m not Harley and—”
Lily threw another waffle bomb which, had Garbage Disposal not intercepted it in mid-flight, would have splattered syrup on Teagan’s new dark jeans.
“Young lady. One more move like that and you’re going into time-out. Do you understand me?” Lily looked as if time-outs were for sissies but Poppy, overwrought at the idea of being separated from her sister, began to wail, working her way up to an epic meltdown.
Lily, not so much. She crossed her little arms and dug in.
Most people thought that Poppy was the rabble-rouser because Lily was so soft-spoken. But Lily was the strategist and instigator, while Poppy was the executor. In the current clash between Teagan’s healthy breakfast and Harley’s Pop-Tarts and Kool-Aid combo, Lily had initiated a standoff.
Luckily for Lily, they were out of time. If Teagan didn’t get them on the road ASAP, they’d all be late. Harley’s irresponsible forgetfulness forced Teagan into a corner, with only two choices: eating in the car or no breakfast.
She hated breaking herno eating in the carrule, but if they were late, she’d have to go into the office to sign the girls in to school and she might miss her meeting.
Meeting first, bring down the hammer later.
“Okay, breakfast to-go.”
“Yay!” Poppy cheered as if the tears had been a front.
“Get your shoes on and grab your backpacks. Your ride leaves in five minutes.”
“Put her up high, Lily Cakes,” Poppy said, in a voice resembling Harley. They did a high-five followed by a five-part secret handshake, which would have been adorable had Teagan been let in on the secret.
“Did Auntie teach you that?” she asked, irritated by how tiffed she sounded. So what if Harley was in on a secret handshake? Teagan had four years of memorable moments—like being pegged with a defiant piece of waffle.
Poppy was already slipping out of her booster and heading for the stairs with Lily on her heels. Teagan quickly loaded her bread into the car and was headed back into the kitchen when she saw it—the crocheted eyesore hanging from the living room ceiling, swinging in the morning breeze.
