Page 52 of Story of My Life
“Yeah, Gram’s are garbage,” Wesley agreed.
“Excuse me?” my mother interjected.
“Too far, kid. Too far,” Gage stage-whispered.
“Harrison?” Laura said.
“Huh? Who, me?” Harry pointed to himself. “Nothing will ever beat your pancakes, Mom.”
The kid was a gifted and charming liar. It was almost a shame he only used his powers for good now instead of enjoying the harmless teenage rebellion they all deserved.
“What we mean is that both recipes have their pros,” Isla said diplomatically as she elbowed her brothers.
“Which one has more pros?” Mom demanded.
Sensing imminent danger, Levi snatched the towel off the pancakes already on the table, plucked the top one off the stack, and slapped Gage in the face with it.
In self-defense, Gage grabbed a spoonful of scrambled eggs and fired it back.
“Levi Fletcher and Gage Preston Bishop, how many times have I told you not to play with your food?” Mom bellowed.
“Hey, who wants bacon?” Dad cut in. He held up the plate like he was one of the showcase models onThe Price Is Right. Bentley planted his ass at Dad’s feet, tail wagging.
“Me,” chorused the rest of the male family members.
“I needa couple more measurements for the Heart House estimate. If you can get them for me today, I should have it done tomorrow,” Dad announced as we sat asses to elbows around the too-small dining table. There was more room than there’d once been, and I knew we all felt it. That’s why I sat with my back to the photos on the wall. I didn’t need or want to be reminded of the loss. Laura, however, always faced them.
I choked on my coffee. “Seriously?” I’d assumed it would take at least a week for him to pull together an estimate. A week in which Hazel would get sick of small-town life and pack her wine-soaked bags and I could forget I ever met her.
“What are we looking at?” Gage asked as he slid another pancake onto his plate.
“Six figures with a fifty percent deposit,” Dad said proudly.
Gage let out a low whistle that had both dogs’ heads popping up from under the table. The hopeful expressions around the table almost made me feel like an asshole for wanting a certain romance novelist to give up and move on. Almost.
“Think she’ll go for it?” Levi asked me.
“How should I know?” I said irritably.
“She’s a damn good writer. Let’s hope that’s reflected in her bank account,” Laura said, reaching for the gross healthy person syrup.
“I picked up one of her books at the library yesterday,” Mom said.
“I did some research on her. Turns out she’s the damsel in distress I ran into at the gas station yesterday,” Gage said. “I got to play hero before Cam.”
“Uncle Cam gives off villain vibes,” Isla announced from her perch at the island.
“I do not,” I snarled.
Isla grinned. “Sinker.”
I made sure my mother was preoccupied covertly feeding Bentley under the table before Frisbeeing a pancake at my niece’s head.
“Hey!” Isla said as my brothers snickered.
Mom lasered in on me, and I smiled innocently.
“She seemed nice. I liked her,” Gage said, coming to my rescue. “Terrible driver but friendly and funny. Pretty too.”
