Page 30 of Spoil
Me: you're 30 you're nowhere near heart attack age
Me: And you still haven't answered the question
Daniel: Yes, I like waffles. I'd especially like to feed them to a certain sex, redheaded, wannabe stay-at-home-mom
I roll my eyes.
Me: I was going to offer to FaceTime you so we can make waffles together, but I take back my invitation
Daniel: No! I'll be good. I promise
Daniel: But only if Danny wants to
“Hey baby, Daddy does like waffles. I was going to FaceTime him to show him how we make them. But wanted to check in with you first. What do you think?”
She looks sheepish at first, unsure. But finally she nods.
I FaceTime him and set him up on the counter against a few cookbooks. It’s mostly just me in the shot, but Danny can pop her head in when she wants. I set her up on the stool, and Daniel picks up after the first ring.
“There are my pretty girls,” he says as a greeting. I flush at the compliment.
Danny hides at first, but she’s watching him. I get the rest of the ingredients from the fridge and set them up on the counter.
“So, what do you like on your waffles, Danny? Chocolate chips? Strawberries?” Daniel asks, his voice chipper again, and it eases some of the tension I’ve been carrying.
She doesn’t reply, so he asks me instead.
“What does Mommy like on her waffles?” There’s a sauciness to his voice that I’m sure goes over Danny’s head but twists my insides.
I quirk my lips to the side, filling a measuring cup with flour. I hand it to Danny, who pours it in with minimal mess.
“I like chocolate chips... strawberries... blueberries...” I sing-song, happy and light at this unexpected domestic moment. I could almost imagine him at work and us at home baking on FaceTime together.
I don’t know what he does at the club, but he was going to college for finance, so maybe he went back and finished.
“Okay. Now.Themost important question... powdered sugar, chocolate syrup or maple syrup?”
“Maple syrup and butter!” Danny shouts from beside me, leaning over so her forehead is at least in the screen.
“Naturally,” I add.
We finish mixing the dry and wet ingredients while Danny and Daniel argue over toppings and breakfast foods. What’s the best breakfast drink? What’s better — waffles or bacon and eggs, sweet or savory, fruit on the side or mixed in? What’s better, pancakes or waffles? And I remain silent. I want them to have their moments together, where they spend time talking and figuring each other out. Bonding. It’s all surface-level stuff, but it’s building a connection; a series of positive interactions on which to grow a relationship.
I fry up the waffles in the waffle maker while Danny walks the phone around, showing Daniel our home, her toys, but I tell her not to go into the basement. Or upstairs to bother Gigi.
Once I have enough made, I top them with maple syrup and butter, and cut them up before calling back to Danny.
“Hand me the phone while you bring up a plate for Gigi, okay?”
She nods. “Two hands, and walk slowly!” I shout after her. A little maple syrup on the floor won’t kill anyone, but giving her an important job will be good for her self-esteem.
I take the phone back and smile at Daniel’s handsome face. Then I remember the check.
“I can’t take your money, Daniel. It doesn’t seem right.” And I’m incredibly uncomfortable with the amount. I could never imagine seeing that much in my lifetime, let alone saving it up.
He shakes his head. “I used a calculator. It’s the child support and alimony you would have gotten if I’d known.” That deflates my fight a little.
“How much money do you have if this is just a percentage?”
