Page 63

“You… You did? That fast?” I asked. “I didn’t ask you to do that, did I?”

Art beamed at me. “Nope! Did it so you wouldn’t have to. Come see.”

I followed him up the small flight of stairs and stared wide-eyed at the result of his labors. “Oh, wow. That’s…” I fished for a word that wouldn’t make me sound ungrateful. “That was so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“Anytime!” he said, kissing me one last time before bouncing down the stairs two at a time, leaving me staring at the shelves he’d bewilderingly organized by color.

Art loved books as much as I did. I couldn’t fathom how he’d been comfortable shelving Anne of Green Gables next to Isaac Asimov or Shakespeare next to Stephen King, but I also couldn’t think of a single way to tell him that as grateful as I was for his help, his system made me want to scream.

TWENTY-THREE

When Art texted to report that he was stuck in traffic on the other side of the bridge, I looked at the large box of cookies I still needed to decorate before morning and sighed.

It was nearing dinnertime, and Viv had already been supervising her little brother for far longer than was fair.

With a groan, I gathered what I’d need in a spare box, heaved both into my arms, and made my way awkwardly up the stairs to the apartment.

“Guys! Dinner will be ready soon! I just need to get some water on the boil,” I called out as I negotiated the door without dropping anything.

“No need! Dinner will be ready in five,” Viv said, coming to meet me at the door and taking the top box from me.

“What?” I asked incredulously, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Oh my gawd! Can’t I just do something nice without it becoming a whole thing?”

“Yes! Yes! Of course!” I hurried to say. “Thank you. I so appreciate it.”

Viv shrugged, looking a little sheepish and a lot proud. “Dad texted to say you were super stressed, and I should be helpful. So I made mac and cheese.” She scrunched up her nose. “Sorry it’s nothing fancy.”

I grinned at her. “I guarantee it’ll taste better than anything I could get at a Michelin-rated restaurant.”

Viv frowned. “You say the weirdest things, Meg.”

“Why, thank you!” I replied, grinning when she rolled her eyes in response.

“What is all this stuff, anyway?” she asked, peering into the box she’d just slipped onto the counter with a grunt.

“Cookie-decorating stuff. Icing, tools, and whatnot. I figured I’d decorate up here to keep you guys company while we wait for your dad to get home.”

Childlike glee lit up Viv’s face, and for an instant, I was reminded that she wasn’t the young adult she so desperately wanted us to believe she was.

“Could I maybe…” She let her voice trail away as if too shy to finish the sentence.

I was tired enough that it took me a beat to understand what she was asking.

“You want to help?” I asked, unable to mask my surprise.

Viv glared at me. “Whatever. It’s dumb anyway.”

“No! I didn’t mean anything by that. I’d love to teach you. Right after dinner,” I added when the kitchen timer went off.

“Hey! Little weirdo! Dinner!” she hollered toward the ladder stairs, shrugging apologetically when I flinched.

Spurred on by the prospect of a new activity, the kids ate their pasta in record time and even cleared the table without being asked. By the time Art trudged up the stairs and let himself in, Merry’s hair was covered in about as much frosting as the cookie he was decorating, and he’d eaten about twice as much. I wasn’t entirely sure his feet touched the ground when he jumped up to rush Art for a hug.

I saw the moment the large man realized there was no way he’d avoid getting slimed and opted to embrace the assault. He scooped up his son and hoisted him to his shoulder as he spun around, making a loud woo woo sound, which Merry joyfully echoed.

“Daddy! Come decorate cookies with us! Meg is a great teacher,” the little boy cried as he wriggled to be put down.