“Oh, Jackson. What have I gotten myself into?”
Sullivan took out a French press and ran some beans through the grinder. When she opened it and some grounds fell out, she muttered, “I did not fill you that much. You’re just doing it for attention.” She swept the grounds into her hand and tossed them into the sink.
Despite everything, Kia felt a real laugh bubbling up. She held it back, but that didn’t change the fact that Sullivan was adorable.
Kia took a sip. “Kenyan? From Muranga?”
“Southern Nyeri.”
“So right above Muranga.”
“I’m not giving you that one, Jackson. Muranga is not Nyeri.”
“Fine.”
“What are you working on?” Sullivan asked.
“My dream.”
Kia turned her laptop around so Sullivan could see the idyllic photograph of a couple watching the sunset from beneath a 1968 Wind Searcher Pop-Up Pavilion.
“That’s your dream? To have a little tent on top of your RV?”
“It’s not just a little tent. It’s got features and it matches the RV.”
Sullivan snorted.
“If you slept on the ground, you wouldn’t need all that.”
“If I had to sleep on the ground, I’d get a different job. Now stop hassling my dream. You wanted to talk about house rules. I already deep-fried a tursnicken on your stove, so that’s covered.”
Sullivan gave her a melodramatic sigh. “Before we discuss that culinary affront, how about a few vital statistics. Just in case someone asks me what sign you are or how many siblings you have.”
Kia listed her vitals. No siblings. Gay single father. Allergic to Goldschläger.
“That’s just weird,” Sullivan said.
“It’s my allergy. It’s not weird. Are you writing this down?”
“I’ll remember everything.”
“You will not.”
Sullivan rattled off everything Kia had said.
“You always memorized your recipes at school. Why not just keep them on your phone?”
“What if your battery dies and you have to make a dacquoise cake?”
“You charge your phone.”
“What if there’s no electricity?”
“You wait for the power to come back on.”
“If it doesn’t?” Sullivan asked as though she’d just made a winning argument.
“Like, ever? I’m not going to be making a dacquoise in the zombie apocalypse.”
