Page 41 of Daddy's Reckoning
He just shook his head and chuckled. “You start getting your muffins and toppings ready. I’ll do one more, just to ensure that Erin has a nice breakfast, but you’re doing your own.”
I threw him a mock salute and crossed the kitchen, popping two English muffin slices into the toaster. I strode to the fridge and withdrew a fresh heirloom tomato, an avocado, and some sliced Canadian bacon.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
“What’s fuck?” Lennon questioned, turning slightly to look at me while keeping one eye on his eggs.
“I forgot about the hollandaise. I’m probably going to fuck that all up, too.”
Lennon laughed. “Yeah probably. You should have started with something easier, like a quiche or some shit. Lucky for you Zoe makes a mean hollandaise, but next time, get a sauce packet, man. Not everything has to be from scratch. Sometimes just making the effort is enough.”
I shook my head as I pulled up a recipe from the internet and started gathering up the ingredients I would need. Thankfully, we now had a fully stocked kitchen. I’d put in a huge order last night for first-thing delivery, willing to leave nothing to chance.
I’d barely gotten started when Lennon stepped away from the stove. “You’re up, man.”
I growled, already stressed about what I foresaw as a fifth failed attempt. “Can’t you just do it for me?”
Lennon shook his head. “Nope. If I do it for you, you’ll never learn, then how will you impress your lady?”
“With my good looks and checkbook?”
“It doesn’t seem like that’s been working for you so far,” he quipped. “Come on, quit being such a baby. You can do it; I have faith in you.”
He was talking to me like I was a child, but I figured I deserved that. I knew I was kind of acting like one. I couldn’t help it. There was so much at stake.
Holding my breath, I mirrored Lennon’s earlier actions, cracking an egg into a custard dish and sliding it into the boiling water. To my amazement, it didn’t immediately flower out, and seemed to be holding its shape. “It’s working,” I whispered, a flutter of excitement in my chest.
“Uh-huh,” Lennon deadpanned, as if it had been a given. “It’s done. Now spoon it out.”
My stomach knotted as I shot him the side eye, taking the slotted spoon he handed me. I held my breath, just sure I was going to fuck this up.
“Hurry, or it's gonna get overcooked,” Lennon nudged me.
I remembered the pile of eggs lingering at the top of the garbage disposal and sighed. I didn’t breathe as I scooped the spoon under the egg and pulled it out, watching as the water dripped. It looked perfect, but was it?
I slid it onto the plate beside Lennon’s. To my surprise, they looked identical.
“There ya go. Good job. See, I told you, vinegar was the trick.”
“You could have just told me that over the phone,” I grumbled.
“Oh, okay, I see how it is. I mean, I could have, but then how would I have found out you’d gone and abandoned the crew, moving into a grownup house and all that shit? Seriously, man, when did that even happen?”
“Last night. And what do you care? You aren’t living there, either.”
“I’m not,” he agreed cheerfully. “Love will do that, I guess. Force you to grow up and all that shit. Here.” He handed me an egg. “Do another one.”
“Can’t you? I need to worry about the sauce.” I hated how whiny and incompetent I sounded, but Erin’s independence was making me crazy.
“No, man up, and make your girl breakfast.” He moved away from the stove, going back to the island where Zoe had been chopping my vegetables, and hugging her around the waist.
“Are you leaving?” I asked, feeling panic rise up in my chest. Good lord, what was she doing to me? I didn't even recognize myself.
“We can stay for moral support,” Lennon answered. I could tell from his grin he was just enjoying watching me sweat. “You better hurry up, though. You don’t want her to wake up and find us here.”
I glanced at the clock. It was already twenty ‘til eight. Erin liked to sleep in, but not that long. How had this been an hour-long ordeal already, and I wasn’t even close to done?
“Fuck.” I cracked the egg into the custard dish and followed the same steps I had for the last one, watching it cook. There were so many other things I could be doing, but I was afraid to take my eyes off the pot.