Page 117 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

Humming to myself, I set about grabbing the electric mixer from its spot in one of the bottom cabinets. I pull out three glass mixing bowls in varying sizes.

“Why don’t you use the stand mixer?” Brody knows I like it when he asks questions about cooking. He’s still not great at it, but he’s gotten marginally better in recent years.

“Too much work.” I shrug, cracking the eggs and separating the whites from the yolks. The whites go into the medium bowl and the yolks into the small one. “And I can’t get everything. It’s fine for doughs and things that’ll come together easily, but not whisking egg whites. There’s always going to be a layer of unwhisked whites in the bottom of the bowl with a stand mixer.”

“Interesting.” He’s silent for a few more minutes while I measure dry ingredients into another bowl, the largest one I pulled out. “And then you have to fold the whites into the batter?”

“Exactly.” I continue the process, leaving the whipping of the egg whites until last to keep the structure. “Grab the waffle iron for me. It’s in the pantry.”

“Magic word?”

“Pleeeeeease?” I grin extra wide and squeeze my eyes shut, earning a snort, but it works and Brody follows the order.

He reappears a minute later, holding the Death Star waffle maker aloft.

“There ya go.”

“But I didn’t say Miles says,” I laugh.

“Very funny.” He rolls his eyes and resumes his seat. “That was cheesy, wasn’t it?” he groans, dropping his head onto his forearms where they rest on the counter.

“Cheesy,” I agree, “but hot.” The compliment hangs in the air and I have to change the subject. “Still taking me to the airport Thursday?”

“Yeah, you fly out early this time, right?”

“6:04,” I groan, throwing my head back and wincing dramatically. “But if I don’t leave that early, I won’t get to Miami until super late.”

“Yeah, I get it. What time do you want to be there?”

We discuss logistics for a few minutes and then fall silent while he watches me work.

“Hey, watch out for Sophie while you guys are there,” says Brody, cutting up the fresh waffle I just set in front of him. “She’s been dealing with some stuff and I’m worried about her.”

I frown, dying to ask what he’s talking about. She seems fine to me. There was a moment at the rose garden where she got spooked, but I think we’d just been in our own little world. Reality startled her.

“Of course, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Don’t…” he sighs, “don’t tell her I told you.”

“I’m not keeping secrets.” I’ve learned the hard way what that can do to a relationship.

“I’m not telling you to lie, just don’t tell her I said I was worried. I don’t want her spooked.”

“We need to have a family meeting,” I mutter under my breath. It’s going to have to wait until after SpicyCon, though.

29

Sophie

“When’s the last time we did this?” Natalie asks, grabbing the cooler from the floor behind the driver’s seat. I roll my eyes at the group chat with the guys and slip my phone back into my pocket.

“Had a beach day? Fuck, I don’t know,” I mutter. “Have we done it since my birthday?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Then about two and a half months.”

“We’ve got to get here more often.” She closes the door, holding her wide-brimmed hat to her head so it doesn’t blow off in the wind. Cooler in her hand, umbrella under the same arm, she looks ridiculous trying to control it all.

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