You give the bacon up for lost, dump the blackened mess in the sink and grab a new pan and fresh bacon. Ramping the heat up to 6, you practically throw the eggs, sausage, and beans into the pan.
"What were you guys doing?" Annabelle asks, lingering in the kitchen.
"Nothing," you reply. "Just something adults do. I'll tell you when you're older." Shit, why did you promise that? Now you're the one who has to explain to her how your younger sister has been milking you like a cow and selling your semen to sperm banks and desperate women online for six months.
"Were you hugging?" Anna presses innocently. She really is that naive, unsurprising considering that the sex education classes had been gutted from schools under the new female-mandated curriculum. Everything they knew about sex these days came from Cosmo.
"Uh huh. Let's go with that." Contented, she pours herself a glass of milk and goes back upstairs.
-----
Ten minutes later you're dashing up the stairs with one full English breakfast, a cup of hot tea, one sugar, on the tray with the Manhattan skyline that Olivia likes. You push open the door to Olivia's room with your foot. Her room is spacious and neat. She sits at the dresser, combing and pulling back her hair into the tight bun. She watches you coldly in the reflection of the mirror. She has some punishment planned. But what?
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