Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I turn to Luna. “Do you have any idea?”
“Nope,” she says, unbothered, but that’s life for a ten-year-old.
“Don’t ask me,” Parker says with a shrug. “Cooking is hard. Science is easy.”
“Little man, cooking is science,” Trevyn says to Parker, ruffling his hair.
We all head into the kitchen, where Tyler and Miles are wearing aprons.
Miles’s apron is covered in illustrations of dogs and the words Dogs—For Whom Everything Is Exciting. And Tyler’s black and red apron says, Don’t Ask Me. I’m Just Here for the Food.
Miles swats Tyler’s hand as he tries to sneak a taste of mashed potatoes. “Watch it, Little Falcon.”
“I made them,” Tyler says, indignant.
“And I know your style. You’ll eat them all before we sit down. Let’s focus on the cranberries,” Miles instructs, and both the brotherly diss and the brotherly love make me smile.
They must realize we’re here since they look up at the same time. Tyler turns his gaze to the clock. “I didn’t realize you were back yet from the park,” he says, sounding a little concerned.
“I hope we didn’t ruin your surprise,” I say, feeling bad that maybe we walked in too soon. On the risotto perhaps?
Miles punches Tyler’s arm. “Nope. Because Little Falcon got it wrong, but I’m here to save the day. Like I told you I would on the plane.”
Tyler scoffs. “Pretty sure I did that already with my epic mashed potatoes.”
“I love mashed potatoes,” I say. “And really, all sides.”
I scan the evidence of Thanksgiving prep across the counter: the sliced-up Brussels sprouts, the mashed potatoes, the fresh cranberries. The smells of the holiday mingle—rosemary and butter, tart cranberries, and fresh rolls.
And then I catch a hint of Tyler. That woodsmoke scent that catches me off guard in the best of ways.
He looks caught off guard too, though almost bashful as he glances from Luna to me. “Anyway, the surprise is still happening. But it’s not a surprise anymore. I thought I’d make you a mushroom risotto for a main dish. One we serve with the turkey. For the vegetarians in my life. But I have to do it last, it turns out.”
Luna gasps, then runs over to him and gives him a side hug. “You’re the best, Dad.”
Tyler hugs her back, and joy warms his hazel eyes. But relief does too. Like he’s glad he did right by her. I want to do the same as Luna—rush over and hug him in thanks. But I can’t, and a twinge of sadness digs into me for a few seconds. I clasp my hands behind my back, twisting my fingers together like I need to hold myself back.
Trevyn tosses me a look that says, Girl, you’ve got it bad.
My heart squeezes even more as Tyler gives Luna a kiss on the forehead.
“I wanted you two to have something special,” he says, then looks to Parker. “And I have plenty of turkey for you.”
“Thanks, Dad. You’re a turkey.”
“You’re a turkey,” he retorts, then gobbles, and Parker cracks up.
As he laughs, Tyler swings his gaze my way, his eyes hopeful. And the twinge in me vanishes. “Thank you,” I say.
It’s the nicest surprise, his risotto plans. What’s nicer is that those twisting, corkscrew feelings from last year never surface.
Later in the day, as Trevyn and I build a Lego tuxedo cat with Parker, a warm nutmeg scent drifts through the living room. Trevyn nudges me and says, “Is someone baking a pumpkin pie?”
Parker’s eyes light up. “Does it have gummy bears in it?”
Trevyn shudders Parker’s way. “That sounds nasty.”
“Have you ever tried pumpkin pie with gummy bears in it?” Parker counters, never one to back down from the scientific method.
Trevyn pauses, as if he’s giving that some thought. “Actually, no. Have you?”
“Nope. But I’m willing to take my chances.”
Trevyn shakes his head but laughs. “Then I will too.”
Soon, other family members arrive. Tyler’s mom and Harvey, then Leighton with her camera, then Tyler and Miles’s grandmother Birdie, with a tray of toffee caramel bars.
Charlie’s here too, checking on everything in the kitchen and I instantly develop a friend crush on their little sister. Tyler’s moving around in a focused flurry, getting advice from Miles every step of the way. The man of the house looks both overwhelmed and focused, like he’s got this even as information comes at him from all angles and he opens ovens, stirs pots, and chops vegetables.
The kitchen is buzzing, but I can’t simply sit on the couch. My job is to be a helper. To help with kids and the house, and the kids are occupied with Lauren right now, working on a puzzle of the solar system since the Lego cat is done. So I slip into the kitchen. It’s more natural for me to offer a hand anyway, so I tell Tyler to let me work on the Brussels sprouts.