“When’s Santa coming?” Olivia asked for probably the hundredth time in the last hour. Phoebe glanced up from her magazine, actually smiling.
I yawned. “At the end of the parade, Olivia. You know that. It’s the same every year.”
She walked her Barbie doll over to where I sprawled across the floor. “I wanna see Santa now!”
“So do I.” I picked the doll up and inched it back toward her.
“Have you written a list for Santa yet?” Gabe asked, surprising the hell out of me. “You know, telling him what you want?”
Olivia whirled on Gabe, launching into a rather detailed description of the toys she wanted while I closed my eyes and replayed last night over and over again. Nothing could take the smile off my face or stop the somersaults that kept occurring below my navel.
Last night had been wonderful. Perfect.
And apparently, the happy feeling clouded any sense of judgment I had, because when Liz asked me to help her with the stuffing, I agreed.
We stood side by side at the kitchen island. I wished I’d had the forethought of tucking my hair back before sinking my bare hands into the mix of bread, egg, butter, and milk.
“Did you used to do this with your mother?” Liz asked after a couple of minutes.
I squashed my hands around, feeling egg ooze through my fingers. “Yeah, but we… we used to do it the night before.”
“And stuff the turkey then, too?”
I nodded. “I used to eat the stuffing when Mom wasn’t looking, but the last time—when I was fourteen —she saw me eating it. Said I’d get salmonella or something.”
She laughed softly. “Do you think it needs more onions? Bread?”
“Sure.” Not that I had a clue, really, but I think she asked to make me feel like I’d contributed.
Liz reached into the bowl—carefully avoiding my hands—and plucked out a small ball of mixed stuffing. She raised her brows at me.
“Want some?”
I stared at her a moment, then decided what the hell. I opened my mouth and she tossed the little ball.
I missed the first one, second, and third. By the fourth try, when the ball actually went into my mouth, we both were laughing and stuffing slime covered my chin.
“You know,” Liz said, crumbling up chunks of bread and adding them in. “I think your mother hears you when you talk to her.”
I looked up from the bowl. “How do you know I talk to her?”
She smiled, fine lines spreading out from the corners of her sloe-colored eyes. “I’ve heard you a few times. I think it’s good you do that. She’s still in there.”
“Do you really think so?”
Liz nodded solemnly. “Yes, I do.”
“Think what?” Hayden asked, sauntering into the kitchen.
I froze beside Liz; all rational thought flew right out my head. I didn’t even need to look in a mirror to know my cheeks were turning a bright red.
“Nothing, just me running my mouth,” Liz said, laughing softly. “We’re making stuffing. Want to help?”
Hayden propped himself against the island, close enough that I could feel him smile. “I think you guys got it handled.”
I stole a quick glance at him. He wore a simple, black shirt and jeans, but he looked amazing. He nudged my leg with his, earning a grin.
A sudden squeal broke the silence, followed by, “Santa! Santa!”
I turned back to the stuffing, mashing it together. “That would be Olivia.”
Liz laughed. “I have to see this. Do you think you can finish it up?”
“Yes.” I nodded and blew a curl out of my face. It fell right back.
She hurried from the room, wiping her hands on her apron. My eyes followed her, silently acknowledging that she really did care for Olivia. “As much as it pains me to say this, she really is good for Olivia.”
“And who is good for you?” Hayden asked, moving behind me, trailing quick kisses over the curve of my shoulder.
My breath caught. “I think… you know the answer to that.”
Hayden placed his hands on my hips, pulling me back against him. “Hmm, maybe you should show me?”
“I’m making stuffing, so you better—” He placed lips against the side of my neck, then behind my ear.
“Oh…”
He laughed and pulled away, leaving one hand on my back. “Need help?”
“Sure.”
“Good.” Hayden tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.
We finished up with the stuffing, laughing and talking about nothing in particular. Every so often, Hayden became distracted. He’d stop, give me a quick kiss or brush my hair back. I think it took us a little longer than necessary to get it in the turkey.
I was washing the gunk off my hands and Hayden sat on the counter beside me when his father walked in. If anyone could kill my buzz, it was Cromwell.
“Liz tells me you two are making the stuffing. I really didn’t believe it.”
“What? I have a bit of the chef in me.” Hayden smiled.
Drying off my hands, I turned around. “He was helping.”
Cromwell raised a brow. “You can’t even boil an egg, son.” He paused. “Or toast bread without burning it.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Nice.”
Hayden frowned at me. “I can toast bread.”
“You tried to shove a fork in the toaster to get your bread out—that was only a few years ago.”
“Oh. Wow.” I grinned at Hayden.
“Thanks, Dad.” Hayden pushed himself off the counter.
Cromwell smiled at him as he walked to the oven, and I seriously believe he was checking out the stuffing.
Hayden tugged on my sleeve and nodded at the back door. He mouthed outside.
I nodded, immediately looking away when Cromwell turned around. “So, what are you two getting yourselves into now that you’ve proven you both can cook?”
Hayden shrugged. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”
“Up late last night?” he asked innocently.
My eyes widened as I stared at the floor, but Hayden sounded unfazed. “Yeah, I stayed up late watching TV.”
“What are you doing, Ember?”
“Huh?” My head jerked up. “Oh. Now—I think I’m gonna go sketch.”
“Well, we have dinner at three. I expect both of you to be here.” His gaze fell on Hayden. Cromwell smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes. “Before you run off, Hayden, I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”
I headed for the door, worry gnawing at my stomach. As I went to my bedroom, I could hear Liz and Olivia’s giggles mingling in with the male voices. I pulled on a hoodie and a pair of gloves before grabbing my sketchpad and a pencil.
Taking the route farthest from the kitchen, I slipped out the front door. I felt a little bit guilty about not spending time with Olivia. It used to be just us, and for two years, there wasn’t the smell of turkey or so much laughter.
I convinced myself she was okay while I waited in the chilly air for Hayden to appear. He showed up five minutes later, a wide smile across his face. Bright sunlight broke through the trees, casting a halo around his head.
“Aren’t you cold?” He hadn’t even put on a sweater.
“Nah.” Hayden held out his hand.
I stuck the sketchpad under my arm and took his hand. “Where’re we going? The cabin?”
“I thought we could take a walk.”
“Okay.” I let him lead me into the woods. A chorus of dead leaves crunched under our feet. “What did Cromwell want?”
“He wanted to know what we were up to.” He held a branch back.
“What? Does he know about…” I couldn’t say “last night.”
“No.” He sent a reassuring smile over his shoulder. “He just wondered what was up, I guess. I told him we were making stuffing.”