“I smell something burning,” Sienna said from the other room.
I jolted and went back to the pancake. I shoved the spatula under it and flipped it. The cooked side was very cooked and nearly black. I decided that it wasn’t edible and I buried it in the trash can then quickly poured another one.
“Can you give me a hint?” I called into the other room.
“Parker, you seriously can’t wait?”
“I can’t.”
“Okay,” she said, laughing. “Your hint is us.”
“Us?” What the hell did that mean?
“Give me another hint.”
“No!” Then she cursed.
“You okay in there?”
“Yeah,” she's said. “Just cut myself with the scissors.”
“Don’t bleed on my gift.”
“I’ll bleed wherever I damned well please.”
I smiled and shook my head. If anyone who didn’t know us could overhear us, they would think we were always arguing. It was the opposite, in fact. I could be brutally honest with her and she could take it in stride. Not many women would do that, especially at our ages. I hoped we kept the same teenager maturity level throughout our lives together. It kept us young and always on our toes.
I managed to get three pancakes done by the time she came back into the kitchen.
She lifted each one from the plate and inspected them. “These look great.”
“You’re not being nice?”
“When am I ever nice to you?” she reached up and kissed me.
She chopped the strawberries while I tried to crack her about the gift, but she was like a steel vault.
She set up two place settings and had the coffee done in the time it took me to finish the pancakes. I needed to figure out how to multi-task eventually.
“Do you want the gift before or after we eat?”
“Before!” I said.
She shook her head. “You’re too much, Parker. Are you sure you’re almost thirty? I’d say you were closer to thirteen.”
“Get my gift, woman!” I said and pointed to the other room.
She made a show of bowing before me. “As you wish.”
She left the kitchen and came back a few seconds later. She handed me the gift wrapped in the same shiny silver paper that she’d come in with this morning. I thought it was a lot of fanfare, but I didn’t question her too much. She seemed excited to get me something. So I wanted to keep that smile on her face.
I took the gift from her hands and placed it on the now-clean breakfast bar. It was thin but quite heavy.
“It’s fragile,” she noted.
I carefully pulled the seam apart and lifted the paper from the object. My heart was thrumming in my chest. Sienna wasn’t the type to give people gifts unless they were i
ncredibly thoughtful and well-deserved. I didn’t remember the last time she gave me a physical present, maybe a birthday a couple of years ago. We normally celebrated by going out to a restaurant or bar. She’d said her presence was present enough. And I agreed. If I ever needed something, I was always able to get it myself.