Page 39 of Hot Times in Heart Falls, Vignettes Vol 3

“Then you’ll cry on the phone to your mom, and your father and I will come down and we’ll eat our way through a tub of peppermint fudge swirl together. But if you don’t get hurt—if this is the real thing, Edison—then it’ll be worth every scary second.”

The call ended with a flurry of I love yous and virtual hugs.

Edison sat alone in the quiet break room, hands around what was now a lukewarm cup of coffee, and let himself breathe.

Then he pulled out his phone, typed a quick text, and hit Send before he could overthink it.

Edison: Wanted to make it an official request. You good to hit the art gallery with me on Friday? I’ll make us dinner after.

His screen lit up with a reply less than a minute later.

Kevin: Love to.

Two words. That’s all it was—but somehow Edison read much, much more into the message. It turned his insides warm and a little jittery.

Yet, as his mom had said, maybe that was a good thing.

3

The kitchen at High Water smelled like flour, cinnamon, and fresh snow. The combination didn’t make sense, but Kevin had learned by now that a lot of things about this place worked exactly like that.

Unexpected. Unapologetic. Good for you, whether you realized it or not.

“Spheres,” five-year-old Jeffrey intoned seriously, rolling a wad of dough on the tabletop. “The buns need to be round like spheres. Or eyeballs.”

Kevin blinked. “Eyeballs?”

Jeffrey grinned, all gap-toothed and proud. “Mommy taught me ‘bout spheres.”

“Did she?” Kevin side-eyed her, amused.

Tansy smirked as she wiped her hands on a towel. “I also told him the key to fluffy dinner buns is to let them rise—without poking them too often. That lesson doesn’t seem to be sinking in as hard.”

“I heard her,” Jeffrey whispered to Kevin as if it were a secret. “But my fingers want to poke anyway.”

“Every scientist has that problem,” Kevin said solemnly, earning a giggle.

Truth was, Kevin liked spending time with the kid. Baking was low-stakes chaos—yeast and flour and sugar turning into something warm and good. He liked having those things in his life.

Tansy hummed happily as she expertly prepped a second and third tray while they butchered their batch. “You home for dinner tonight?” she asked Kevin.

“Not tonight,” Kevin said. “I’ve got plans.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Art gallery winter exhibit.”

Tansy raised an eyebrow. “Taking Edison?”

“He’s taking me. Then dinner after at his place.”

“What’re you bringing?” She folded the dough in her hand and twisted, and it magically turned into a perfect ball. Sphere. Whatever.

Kevin opened his mouth. Closed it. “A bottle of wine,” he offered after a beat.

“That’s nice,” Tansy said, but her tone held a mild challenge. He felt the nudge before she even added, “And?”

And nothing. That was the problem.