Page 113 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

Chapter Nineteen

Christine

The batter hisses the moment it meets the pan.

I tilt my wrist, spreading it just enough before setting the bowl aside, already reaching for the next thing, the next movement, the next task that keeps everything flowing the way it should.

“...And then the goat said I was too small to cross,” Blue continues, her voice animated behind me, her legs swinging where she’s perched on the counter.

I hum, half-listening, half-not, sliding a spatula under the edge of the pancake, checking the color before flipping it over in one clean motion.

“So I told him I’m not small,” she adds, offended even in the retelling. “I’m just little. That’s different.”

“Very different,” I agree, reaching for a plate, stacking the first one, already pouring another circle of batter into the pan.

“And then the ants came,” she goes on, lowering her voice like this part matters more. “But they were not normal ants, they were big like this.” I glance over just in time to see her stretch her hands wide, exaggerating their size.

“Terrifying,” I murmur.

“They were not scary,” she corrects immediately. “They were helping me.”

“Of course they were.” I nod, agreeing.

She pauses, thinking through something for a second.

“Mommy?” She leans over, her voice conspiratory.

“Mm.”

“Do ants have dreams?”

“I don’t know, baby,” I answer with a straight face.

“Do goats dream?” She presses.

“Probably.” I drag this one a little bit to show I’m contemplating my answer not just throwing it at her.

“Do pancakes dream?”

“Pancakes?” I glance at her, one brow lifting slightly. “I hope not.”

“Why?” She pouts.

“Because then I’d feel bad eating them.”

“Mommy!” She gasps.

I smile despite myself, sliding the next pancake onto the plate, stacking it neatly before reaching for the syrup.

Behind her, the living room is unoccupied this morning.

Aisha should be here by now, leaning against the wall, contributing nonsense to this conversation like she always does, making it worse, louder, and funnier.

Instead, she’s curled up in the other room, wrapped in a blanket, claiming she’s “under attack by microscopic demons” and refusing to move unless absolutely necessary.

Which means it’s just me this morning.

Just me and Blue and the constant rhythm of things that need to get done.