remote, my phone lights up, vibrating against the hard surface with a loud buzz.
DRBen918: Hey.
That’s it?
Before I can chuck my phone against the wall in frustration, it vibrates a second time.
DRBen918: I tried to come up with something wittier than a simple hello, but then I was too anxious to hear from you, so I sent the first thing that popped into my head. What are you up to?
His honesty makes me smile and slowly melts away a bit of my anxiety.
Marcy123Marcy: Not much. Just finished a long day of editing, but I’m too tired to go out and too sick of a screen to surf Facebook or watch a show. What are you up to?
DRBen918: I’d like to be on my way to pick up takeout and bring it to a girl I’ve been dying to see, but I don’t want to be too presumptuous.
Marcy123Marcy: Is this your way of asking if you can come over?
DRBen918: Would you say yes if it was?
I catch myself grinning down at the phone in my hand before attempting to smooth out my features. Unfortunately, the damn thing feels like it’s permanently etched into my face as long as Ben keeps texting me.
Marcy123Marcy: Maybe. Depends on what kind of takeout we’re talking about here.
DRBen918: What kind do you want? I’m at your disposal.
Marcy123Marcy: Would you judge me if I asked for some of Mama Bertha’s pancakes?
I grimace as an image of Krista pops into my head. She’s petite. And dainty. And a size zero. Which means I can only assume Kate was the same way. Then there’s me. I was curvy before I was pregnant with a kid. Now, I feel like a freaking whale in a burlap sack anytime I try on clothes.
Before I can backpedal and ask for a salad, Ben sends me another message.
DRBen918: Haha. Be there in twenty.
Screw it. I want pancakes.
Marcy123Marcy: The clock’s ticking. Don’t keep me waiting, boy. ;)
DRBen918: Wouldn’t dream of it.
“You’re lucky you live down the street from Bertha’s,” Ben tells me as soon as I swing the door open. His hands are full of styrofoam containers, and he heads into the kitchen before setting them down on the table. “Come take a seat before they get soggy.”
An open container is nudged toward me as soon as my butt hits the chair, followed by a little plastic cup of syrup and a set of plastic utensils wrapped in a white paper napkin.
My mouth waters at the smell. “You are seriously my hero. Thank you.” Pouring a generous amount of syrup on top of my already buttered pancakes, I dig in and let out a moan. My eyes roll back in my head as the classic comfort food flavors explode across my tongue.
“Don’t mention it,” he mutters while watching me carefully.
“Did you get anything?” I ask through my mouthful of breakfast-y goodness.
Blinking slowly as if some sort of spell has been cast on him, he clears his throat then opens a second container. This one holds an omelet smothered in cheese. “Yeah, I got the Denver omelet.”
“Good choice,” I compliment with a teasing grin. “Not as good as the pancakes, but I guess I can let you off the hook.”
Dropping his voice down an octave, he whispers, “Will you judge me if I tell you that I’ve never tried Bertha’s pancakes even though I’ve heard they’re famous?”
I gasp. “You’ve never had the pancakes at Bertha’s diner?”
“Nope. Don’t get me wrong, I like pancakes, but I probably haven’t had them in a decade or so. I’m usually more of a bacon and eggs kind of guy. And the only sweet breakfast I ever used to eat was….”
I set my fork down, sensing his discomfort, though I have no idea what brought it on. “Was what?”
“Nothing.” He pushes a bite of egg and cheese around in the container but doesn’t bother to eat it.
“You can tell me,” I prod gently.
Shrugging one shoulder, he picks up a heaping forkful of omelet before twisting the handle to let the bite fall back onto his plate. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It feels like a big deal to you.”
“Kate was more of a french toast kind of girl. Sometimes, I would steal a bite of hers here and there, but she didn’t order pancakes either so….”
“So, you’ve never really tried them,” I finish for him.
“I guess not.”
Desperate to change the subject, I cut off a small bite, stab my fork through it, then offer it to Ben. “Well, I guess now’s your