“
I leave him there and head for the kitchen, sighing when I see a chair shoved over to the counter, Maddie standing on it, digging through the cabinets. “What do you think you’re doing, little girl?”
“Looking for the Lucky Charms,” she says as I pull her down and set her on her feet.
“I’m afraid we’re all out.” I grab a box of Cheerios. “How about these?”
She makes a face of disgust.
“Raisin Bran?”
Another face.
“How about some cottage cheese?”
She pretends to gag.
“Uh, well, how about—?”
“How about I take you out for breakfast?” Jonathan suggests, stepping into the kitchen. “Pancakes, sausage, eggs…”
“Bacon!” Maddie declares.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, you know, with the whole you being you thing.”
“Me being me,” he says.
“Yeah, chances are you’ll get recognized and then have to explain this whole thing and well, you know, I’m not sure it’s worth it for some breakfast.”
“But it might be bacon,” Maddie whines.
Jonathan hesitates, thinking it over, glancing between us before he says, “I know somewhere we can go.”
Mrs. McKleski’s place.
Landing Inn.
That’s where he takes us.
Maddie and I stand in the woman’s foyer in our pajamas, while Jonathan wears just the leather pants from the Knightmare costume. Mrs. McKleski looks at us like we’ve gone crazy, and I instantly want to be anywhere else in the world, but it’s too late, because Maddie’s been promised some bacon.
“You want breakfast,” Mrs. McKleski says. “That’s what you’re telling me?”
He nods. “Yes, ma'am.”
She stares at him. Hard. I expect a denial, because this whole idea is absurd, but after a moment, she lets out a resigned sigh.
“Fine, but go put on some clothes,” she says. “This is an inn, Mr. Cunningham, not Chippendales. I won’t have you at my breakfast table looking like a gigolo.”
He cocks an eyebrow at the woman. “Wasn’t aware you knew what a gigolo was.”
“Go,” she says pointedly, “before I change my mind.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, flashing her a smile before turning to me and nodding toward the stairs. “Join me?”
I stare at him, not moving.
He steps closer. “Please?”
“Fine,” I mumble, glancing at Maddie, not wanting to cause a scene. “Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you have a seat in the living room?”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. McKleski says. “She can come help me cook. Teach her some responsibility. Not sure her father ever learned any.”
Jonathan scowls before again motioning for me to follow him.
“And no hanky-panky,” Mrs. McKleski calls to us as we start upstairs.
“What’s the hanky-panky?” Maddie asks, following the woman to the kitchen.
“She means the hokey-pokey,” I yell down before Mrs. McKleski can answer, because there’s no telling how that woman would explain it.
“Oh, I like the hokey-pokey!” Maddie looks at the woman with confusion. “Why don’t you wanna play it?”
“Too messy,” Mrs. McKleski grumbles. “All that turning yourself around.”
Shaking my head, I go upstairs, stalling right inside the room as Jonathan sorts through his belongings to find some clothes.
”
”
J.M. Darhower (Ghosted)