25. Anders
Anders
C innamon and sugar assault my senses as I walk down the hall to the kitchen. Despite being entirely thrown by Carmela’s dismissal last night, as soon as she left my room, I fell asleep and had a dreamless night’s sleep. It feels good to be back home. In my own bed, in familiar territory.
“These are so good,” Maya mumbles around a mouthful of pancakes as I come around the corner. “Mom, can we have these every weekend?”
Carmela stands at the stove, intently watching the pan she’s hovering over. Her curls are piled messily on top of her head, random silken strands falling around her face. She’s wearing a simple pair of linen shorts and a T-shirt, looking the most laid-back I’ve ever seen her. “What, mijita? You don’t like the box mix I get?” she jests .
Next to her is my mother, mixing up another batch of batter. “I can give you the recipe. It’s super easy. You can premix all the dry ingredients and add the liquids when you’re ready to make them.”
Grandma must still be sleeping since it’s nearly eight in the morning. I lean against the kitchen doorframe, watching Mom and Cara move around each other like they’ve been doing it forever.
It’s Maya who notices me first. “Morning, Anders.”
“Morning, little one.” I smile and take a seat next to her at the table. “Excited for today?”
She shrugs, pushing the last bite of her cinnamon pancakes around on the plate.
A cup appears before me, and I look up to see Carmela pouring me coffee. I try to catch her eye, but she actively avoids looking at me and addresses her daughter. “You love Harry Potter, Maya. I thought you’d be more excited to go.”
Maya mumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, “I’m too old for Harry Potter.”
“You can never be too old for Harry Potter,” I tell her quietly. “Matter of fact, I was thinking of getting a wand while we’re there. I’m a Ravenclaw.” I can feel Carmela’s gaze burning a hole into my cheek. I keep my focus on her teenager, though, poking Maya’s hand with my fork so she’ll look at me.
She rolls her eyes before they connect with mine. “ You’re more like a Hufflepuff, and definitely too old for Harry Potter.”
“What will you do if Jackson likes the wizarding world?” I snap back playfully.
Maya’s face grows tomato red as my mom comes and stacks a pile of pancakes on my plate. “Who is Jackson? Is he your boyfriend?” she inquires mischievously.
“Oh my God, Anders. Shut. Up,” Maya stresses as she gets up to put her plate in the sink. “He’s no one, Greta. He doesn’t even know I exist.”
As she disappears around the corner, I turn to see Carmela smirking at Mom. “He’s my business partner, and she has a major crush on him.”
Mom’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline, and her comical expression makes me laugh, causing my coffee to get stuck in my throat. “Hopefully, your business partner is respectable and won’t get any fresh ideas.”
“Oh, God, no. Jackson would never.” Carmela grimaces.
I want to point out that Jackson is eighteen years older than Maya—only a six-year difference from the age gap between her and Mick. Not to justify Maya’s crush, but to see if Carmela would acknowledge it the same way. Granted, Maya is fourteen, and she was nineteen when she met Mick, but Jesus fucking Christ, she was still at an age with the word teen in it .
You’d think she’d view her relationship with Mick the same way.
I keep my mouth shut, though.
Finishing breakfast, I help Mom clean up before ushering Carmela and Maya into the Jeep to begin the journey north.
Mick isn’t the one here with them right now.
I’ll be damned if I’m going to keep reminding her of him.