At the same time he said, “It smells like baked goods.”
“Your nose is correct,” I said.
“Oh my goodness.” Luke laughed as he took in the disaster that used to be his kitchen—streaks of flour and dirty mixing bowls and measuring cups covering every surface. Then he smirked at Luna, who still couldn’t speak because of the whole cookie she’d crammed into her mouth.
“We were about to start cleaning up. Last batch is in the oven,” I said.
“How’d they come out?” He walked over to the stove and picked one up from the baking rack.
“Great!” Luna said, finally able to speak.
Luke took a bite and made eye contact with me, his brown eyes amused as he rubbed his pointer finger on the side of his nose.
“Flour?” I wiped my hands on both sides of my nose.
“Yup.” He looked back at Luna. “So, whose idea was this, you or Val?”
“Val!”
I shrugged. “She didn’t have any homework.”
“Look, the recipe is on the back of the chocolate chip bag!” Luna showed Luke the bag like it was a grand revelation, and I felt an odd sense of pride. Something so simple sparked so much enthusiasm. We had fun making the dough, too, going through each instruction together. Luna was definitely ready to learn fractions.
“Nice. That’s convenient.”
“You must bake sometimes. You have all the ingredients,” I said.
“Usually just when Nan is here. She makes banana bread,” Luna said.
Luke lifted his palms, a diffident look on his handsome face. “I buy baked goods at Morning Glory.”
The timer on the oven sounded. Luke grabbed the oven mitts off the counter and turned around to take the last tray of cookies out.
“They’re really good. Nice job.” He held his hand up for a high five, which Luna completed with aclap.
“Alright, Luna. Should we start cleaning up?” I asked.
She sighed. “I guess we have to.”
I gathered the mixing bowls and measuring cups and walked over to the sink.
Luke placed his hand on my shoulder as I passed him, leaned into me, and said, “Thank you” in a low voice. I could tell he was referring to my baking with Luna, not just cleaning up.
I smiled over my shoulder at him.
Between the three of us, the cleanup took too little time.
Two days later I searched the pantry for a cookie to have while I read my book and waited for Luke and Luna to get home, but those little cookie monsters already ate most of them. Noticing there were only two left, I shut the pantry door and headed back to the couch empty-handed.
Since it was Luna’s last day of school there was no bus service, and even though I offered to pick her up, she insisted it had to be Luke because“everyone else was getting picked up by their parents.”So he agreed, even though he’d need to go back to work for a couple of hours afterward.
Four chapters of the most recent Edward Phelps romance novel later, they threw open the front door.
Before I could sayhi, Luna ran upstairs with her backpack still on. The loud crack of a door slamming shut echoed down the stairs.
I glanced at Luke. His fists clenched and his jaw ticked. I could only imagine they’d had many a discussion about door slamming.
He sunk down onto the other side of the couch, dropping his elbows to his knees and his face into his hands and sighing loudly. “I was late. She’s pissed.”
