In the morning Lilly jumps on the bed and licks both
of us awake, alerting us that it was time for her to go outside. Groggily, I
put my slippers on and shuffle through the house to take her out. Happily she
trots to the grass and does her business. The rest of the morning Bailey and I
lounge around, that is until 2 p.m. rolls around and we have to get our butts
to work.
“So,
I was thinking,” Bailey says as she sweeps the floor and I clean the tables.
“Maybe we could make homemade lasagna and invite Mr. Stinky Pants over.”
“That
would be fun,” I agree as I finish wiping the condiment counter.
“Wonderful!
You can call him on our way home.”
“Why
me?” I flounder nervously.
“Because
it’s illegal to talk and drive,” Bailey grins.
I
sigh and wait for the hour to roll by so we can finish our shift. Once we do, I
make the phone call to the number Bailey gives me for L.B.
“Hello?”
he asks.
“Hey,
this is Elle.”
“I
know. You gave me your number yesterday remember?”
I
laugh nervously and say, “Well, um, we are making homemade lasagna tonight if
you want to come over.”
“I am
on my way,” L.B. exclaims and I can hear a car door slam in the background.
I
smile and tell him I will see him soon.
After
we all reach the apartment, Bailey and I head to the kitchen and begin cooking.
Surprisingly, L.B. joins in and helps.
“We
used to make homemade lasagna every time we had a bad day. Whether it was work,
school or parents. This would always cheer us up,” Bailey recounts.
“Mainly
because I would do this,” L.B. says and tosses flour at Bailey’s shirt.
“You
didn’t,” she fumes. Just like that, all hell breaks loose. Soon, all three of
us are throwing veggies, flour and sugar at one another. Lilly is having a hay
day licking up all the scraps that hit the floor. We fall into fits of laughter and end up on the floor holding our stomachs that are hurting from all of the laughter. I look down at myself and my once black uniform for Starbucks is now white as snow. Flour is everywhere. Bailey gets up, and walks over to the counter. L.B. is dusting himself off when all of a sudden Bailey dumps the entire bag of flour on his head. I lose control and burst out laughing. L.B. picks Bailey up like a sack of potatoes and places her in a chair while he shakes all of the flour from his hair onto her. I can't believe how much love my new family.
Eventually, we end up making
something that is supposed to be lasagna, but it really just looks like big
noodles swimming in a pool of sauce and cheese. On the plus side, it ends up
tasting fantastic.
Bailey
goes to the restroom to wash off, and L.B. and I are left in the kitchen alone.
“How
was work?” I ask.
“Good,
I cracked a case and captured a bad guy,” he says finishing the last bite on
his plate.
“Good,
I was worried about that bad guy,” I smile.
