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I smiled, pointing at the array of cupcakes still waiting to be iced. “Sure, grab an apron. There’s plenty to do.”
Fox tied an apron around his waist and picked up a piping bag. “So, what’s the plan? Swirls, stars, something fancy?”
“Let’s stick with swirls for now,” I said, demonstrating the technique. “Nice and easy, just like this.”
He nodded, concentrating hard as he began to work on a cupcake. His first attempt was uneven, but he soon got the hang of it.
“Dad, can I tell you something?”
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” I caught myself when he glanced at me. I’d fucked up—why did I immediately assume things weren’t okay?
“I really like Molly.”
Oh, it was one of those chat. Girls. I could handle this. “So do I.” That was me being supportive.
“But I don’t just like girls,” he added in a run-on sentence. “I like boys too, in the kissing kind of way, maybe.”
Ah, the chat had changed direction. “Cool.” What else was there to say? Itwascool.
We exchanged grins and were halfway through the icing project when Chris walked in, not seeing Fox at first, and then coming to a dead stop.
“Morning Mr.—Chris,” Fox murmured, and sent me a wry smile.
“Morning Fox.”
Silence. Then Chris cleared his throat. “This looks like fun. Can I join in?”
“Of course,” I said, passing him a piping bag. “We’re doing swirls.”
Chris kissed me, and he tasted of toothpaste. Then he chuckled, squeezing the bag of butter cream. “I can’t promise they’ll look as good as yours, but I’ll give it a shot.”
Together, the three of us worked on the cupcakes, falling into a simple rhythm. Fox and Chris’s cupcakes weren’t as neat as mine, but that didn’t matter. Some had lopsided swirls, others too much icing, but each one was perfect in its own way.
As we finished the last batch, I stepped back to admire our handiwork. The cupcakes were a mix of perfection and imperfection, but staring at them lined up, I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. It wasn’tjustabout the cupcakes; it was about this moment, together in the kitchen, sharing laughs and creating memories.
“These look great,” Chris said, smiling down at the colorful array.
Fox nodded, his eyes shining with pride. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”
I wrapped an arm around each of them, feeling grateful for these moments. “We sure do. These cupcakes are perfect, just the way they are.”
And they were. They were perfectly imperfect, the same as us. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Chris
I was donewith AP English, the last class of the day, when Ainsley approached me with determination. He was usually inseparable from Clarke, and now Fox, so it caught me off guard when he ignored both of his friends waiting for him in the hallway and stopped in front of my desk.
“Can I talk to you, sir?”
“Sure, is this about the project?” I cast a glance over to where Fox and Clarke stood and caught Ainsley shaking his head at them. What was wrong?
“Not the project, sir, something personal.”
Okay then. Worse than only a simple project question. “Sure, Ainsley,” I said, and noticed Clarke hovering at the door, Fox’s hand on his arm, both of them looking at me with intense expressions. Ainsley shut the door on them and leaned there.
“Clarke doesn’t understand,” Ainsley blurted. “Wants to drag me away from my house and save me. But he can’t save me like that.”
