“It's a gift, Parker.”
“For me?”
She laughed. “Duh. Do you need a few more hours of sleep?”
“I woke up without you. I was a little worried.”
She stood on her toes and kissed me. “That's sweet. I left early thinking you would still be asleep.”
“So, what's in the package?”
She slapped my hand away from it. “Breakfast first.”
“Well, that's not fair.”
“Well, you were supposed to be asleep. Besides, I'm starving.”
“Isn't it my turn to cook today?”
“Yup. And it's an easy one.”
Sienna took each meal as an opportunity to teach me how to cook. She usually saddled me with the easier tasks, but I had a feeling I'd have to do a little more legwork today to earn that package.
She went into the other room, and when she came back, she was empty-handed. I felt like a little kid on Christmas morning, unable to stop thinking about the gift. I hoped she wouldn’t drag her heels all morning.
Without mentioning the gift—I assumed that was her teasing the hell out of me—she put out all the ingredients for chocolate chip pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream. When she put out the whipped cream, I had dirty thoughts about Sienna wearing only the topping.
“I know what you're thinking,” she said. “And maybe if you don't complain too much about shopping today, then there's a possibility of it coming true.”
“Is that a promise?”
She shrugged noncommittally. “All right, stop stalling and let's get measuring.”
With the first batch, I ended up with more flour on my face than in the bowl. But after Sienna gave me pointers on how to measure properly, the batter started to look like what she normally made. And when it came time for the chocolate chips, I added way too many. It supposed it was better than too many eggs.
After getting the hang of how much batter to add to the hot pan, we waited for one side of the flapjack to cook.
“You didn't have to get me anything,” I said.
“I know. I wanted to, though.”
“Can you tell me what it is?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said, grinning. “If you can surprise me with an entire building, I can surprise you with something small.”
I stuck my lower lip out in a mock-pout.
“You’re adorable when you do that,” she said. “But I’m not going to tell you. I still need to wrap it, anyway.”
“How about I finish making the pancakes and you get my gift wrapped? Or we can skip that altogether, since I’m going to rip it open in two seconds.”
She eyed the griddle as if my mere presence would set it on fire. “Okay, but let me know if you need me.”
I kissed her. “I won’t. I’m getting better; even you said so yourself.”
“Eh,” she said indecisively but left the room anyway.
I stood by the door and listened to the rustling of paper. I wasn’t sure what I expected to hear, but I loved to guess what a present was before I opened it. It was a sick thing to do and something my parents never appreciated, but it was a habit that I wasn’t sure I could ever break.