Page 122

"Good?"

"Good!" Orry shoves another piece in his mouth.

Gunther beams. Looks at me. "See? Success."

"He also eats dirt. Not sure he's a reliable critic."

"You're mean before coffee."

"You married me anyway."

He pours me a cup. Slides it across the counter. "I did."

I take it. Sip. Watch him attempt another pancake.

This one's worse. Lumpy. Uneven. Definitely not a helmet.

"What is that?"

"Abstract interpretation."

"It's a blob."

"Acreativeblob."

Orry's already finished his plate. "More!"

Gunther flips the blob onto a new plate. Orry devours it.

I sit. Let the coffee work its magic. The baby kicks.

"She's awake," I say.

"Yeah?"

"Very awake. She's got your energy."

"Poor you."

"Tell me about it."

We eat. Gunther manages three edible pancakes. I eat one. Orry eats four.

The doorbell rings.

"Who shows up at eight on a Saturday?" I groan.

"Colum," Gunther says.

Of course. I open the door. Colum's holding a basket.

"Morning, newlyweds!"

"It's early."

"It's practically noon." He sweeps in. Spots the kitchen. "Did a tornado hit?"

"Gunther made breakfast."