“Pancake mix?” William said. “That's for amateurs.”
“I can't believe I have a boyfriend who makes real pancakes,” Casey said.
“I'm your boyfriend?” William asked, excited.
She pulled him close and kissed him.
“I'm not giving you a choice,” she said, kissing him again. “I'm not going to let
another woman snatch up a man who makes pancakes from scratch.”
William opened up the flour and carefully measured the amount he put into the
measuring cup. He crouched down to confirm he added enough.
“You're like a scientist,” Casey said, raising an eyebrow. “Hopefully not a mad
one.”
“No madness here,” William said. “Back when I was making minimum wage and couldn't
afford much food, I started making pancakes a lot.”
“As every sane person should,” Casey teased.
“I got the mixes at first but started going through them a lot,” William told her
as he measured the baking soda. “It turns out it's more cost effective getting the
ingredients separately. Plus, you get more pancakes in the long run.”
“Smart and economical, Will,” Casey flirted. “You're making me swoon.”
“You haven't even tried the pancakes yet,” William responded.
He made enough batter for twelve medium-sized pancakes, larger than a CD. After
they were finished, Casey grabbed two plates and William placed six pancakes on
both.
They sat at her table and ate.
“Seriously,” Casey said after the first bite. She took another. Then another. “You
seriously made these? From scratch? From memory? Just for me?”
“Um,” William said pausing before he took his first bite. “Yes, yes, yes and yes.”