Page 40 of Daddy's Reckoning
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t help myself. Out of all of us, if you’d asked me who would be up early on a Saturday morning already being productive and out for a morning run, of all things, Lennon would have been my last guess.
Maybe the surprise boded well for what I was about to ask. “How do I poach an egg?” I finally asked. “I’m on my fifth try and they keep falling apart, or being too overdone, or too underdone, or just… I don’t know.” I realized how helpless and ridiculous I sounded, but I was past the point of caring. I was determined to do this by myself and get it right.
Lennon sputtered a laugh. “Oh man, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
“Forget it, I’ll figure it out.” I pulled my cell away from my ear and glared at the smiling icon of Lennon on the screen.
“No, wait!” He was still huffing, and I realized he hadn’t stopped running. “Are you home?”
“Yes, I mean… no.” I sighed. The move had happened so fast, I hadn’t even told my friends about it yet. “I’m at the new house. Across town.” I rattled off the address in his ear.
My announcement was met with a moment of stunned silence. And I could hear the wheels in his head turning. Another one bites the dust. So far, Bas and Nyla, Archer and Audrey, were the only ones still living full-time in the top-floor apartments of the skyscrapers we’d all bought together after an epic lottery win our last week of college.
Ten years later, we were all moving on and growing up.
“I’ll be there in ten,” Lennon finally said. “Just… don’t ruin any more eggs before I get there.” The call clicked off before I could tell him not to bother.
When Lennon strolled through my front door ten minutes later without even knocking—we were going to have to work on that—I was sitting at the dining table, nursing my third cup of coffee.
He came in with a low whistle, carrying a carton of eggs. Zoe was right behind him, with a bouquet of lilies in a brightly colored vase. “Housewarming offering,” she explained, placing it in the center of the table with a flourish. “This place is gorgeous, Theo.”
“So I take it you broke Erin down, and you guys are a for-real thing now?” Lennon’s charming smile was smoldering as he threw his hand up in the air for a high-five.
I left him hanging, shaking my head. “I wish. I convinced her to move in here, but mostly so we could have separate bedrooms, and I wouldn’t have to keep sleeping on the futon in my office. She’s letting me Daddy her now, but that’s about it.”
Lennon dropped his hand, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “Seriously? That’s rough, man. Well, that explains the early morning cooking effort. Gotta pull out all the stops.” He nodded. “I feel you. When you find the right woman, you gotta do whatever it takes.” He reached for Zoe and pulled her close, and I watched as she snuggled under his chin like she’d been made to fit there.
Would Erin and I look like that someday? We used to, and I hoped we would again.
“Okay, eggs,” I commanded, as if cooking her a perfect breakfast was somehow a step in getting there. In my mind, it was.
Lennon nodded, and followed me into the kitchen with a low whistle. “Damn, and I thought Zoe’s kitchen was nice. But this is like some leveled-up shit.”
“Thanks,” I muttered with a shrug.
I hated the ostentatious feel of being the first one to buy a home. Lennon had moved into Zoe’s and Bain had moved into Jasmine’s. And while I didn’t mind spending money on my appearance or creature comforts, like nice meals and designer suits, a fancy home felt different, somehow. More grown-up and show-offy. It was probably because the home I’d grown up in could have fit into the great room of this one.
“Seriously man. Did Erin help you pick this out? I might have to have her help us find a place.”
Instead of reacting to the surprising news that Lennon and Zoe might be in the market for a home, I merely grunted. “The realtor found it. I’ll give you her card. Can we focus on eggs now? I want to get this done before Erin wakes up.”
“Sure thing.”
I watched in awe as Lennon moved seamlessly around my kitchen, selecting a new clean pan from the rack above the island, and filling it with water before setting it on the stove. He shook in a dash of salt and a splash of vinegar.
I frowned. “Won’t that make the eggs taste… sour?”
“Nah, man. That’s the key. It helps them keep shape or some shit.” He turned to me with a worried expression. “Were you not… using vinegar?”
I shook my head.
He smirked. “Man, you’re gonna be amazed. Watch how easy this shit is. I’ll do one, then you can do the next three.”
I refrained from saying I’d just ruin three more eggs and that he should probably just do them all. After all, I wanted to learn to cook myself, not move Lennon in to become my own personal chef. Though if this didn’t work, I might be tempted to hire one. I wondered idly how long I could keep that up without Erin finding out? Probably not long.
I discarded the idea, and crossed the kitchen, watching as Lennon deftly cracked an egg into a small custard dish and carried it to the stove, waiting for the water to boil. Once the bubbles were rolling, he lowered the dish close to the water’s surface and deftly slid the egg out of the spoon. I watched, amazed, as it retained shape and began to cook.
“Wow.”