Page 39 of Switchin' Lanes
“How about some pancakes?” I try to change the subject.
“Pancakes are good.” He chuckles. “I like pancakes.”
“Pancakes it is.” I walk out of the bedroom, toward the kitchen. “No sign of Tink.”
When I walk into the kitchen, I notice a note on the table.
Good morning, my loves.
Y’all looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. I’m going to see Andy at the hospital. I’ll text y’all with an update later.
xo T
“She went to see Andy,” I tell Hollywood. He’s messing with the coffee pot.
“That’s good. She needed that,” he says. “I hope she’s alright.”
“She’ll call us if she needs us,” I assure him. I set the note back on the table and go through the cabinets, pulling out everything I need for pancakes. Next, I grab the cast iron griddle. It’s perfect for pancakes. Cast iron is by far my favorite to cook with. I set the griddle on the stove and turn it on medium-low heat. While it heats up, I mix up the batter.
The coffee is ready as I finish the batter. Hollywood pours us each a cup and I grab the Baileys Irish Cream coffee creamer out of the fridge. Tink bought it and ended up not liking it. Me on the other hand, it’s become my guilty pleasure. I wouldn’t dare let the guys at the clubhouse know I like it, but here, at her house, I’ll drink it with no problem.
“What the hell is that,” Hollywood asks.
I laugh. “Tink wanted to try it. It’s actually pretty good.”
“I’ll stick with my black coffee.”
I shrug. “Your loss.”
I make us each four pancakes. I butter each one as I put them on plates. Turning off the stove, I move the griddle to a cool burner then grab the syrup.
“Wanna watchOzarkwhile we eat,” I ask him.
“Sure. Have you started it yet?”
“Nah, have you?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve been meaning to though.”
We take our plates into the living room and sit on the couch. I turn the TV on, pull up Netflix, and startOzark. Toward the end of the first episode, both our phones buzz. Hollywood checks his.
“It’s Tink. She sent us a group message lettin’ us know she’s leavin’ the hospital and goin’ to the store,” he tells me.
“She’ll be at least another hour.” I laugh. “She’s a slow shopper.”
He takes both our plates into the kitchen and rinses them off. When he’s back in the living room, I start the next episode. Even something as simple as watching TV together is better than us not being together at all. This is something I could get used to.
