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“Oh, no, young squire. I think the only place you’re going is Bathlandia. But first I must kiss the fair maiden and the fair lady. Mount your trusty steed and make for the washroom, posthaste, tally ho, and all that, good chap.”

“Daaaaaad,” Viv whined. “Why do you have to be so weird?”

“Ah, it’s because I have it on good authority that the fair lady likes me so,” he replied, winking at me before swooping down to awkwardly tip me into a soul-searing kiss that melted my core.

“Ew, you guys! Get a room!” Viv cried, covering her eyes and gagging theatrically.

“Or,” Art said, without taking his eyes off mine, “here’s a thought. You could go to yours.”

I batted him away when he leaned in for another kiss. “No! No!” I cried. “Do not send my new favorite assistant away! I need her!”

Clutching his chest, Art stumbled away from the table, rolling his eyes wildly. “You wound me so, my lady! That you would send me away so callously! I shall never recover from this infamy.”

I laughed. “I don't think that’s the word you’re looking for.”

“It’s not?” Art asked in his normal voice as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check.

“I take it your meeting went well?” I asked.

“Eh.” He shrugged. “Infamy… the state of being famous…” he muttered, reading the screen. “Wait. No. You’re right! Ignominy! That’s what I meant!”

“That makes more sense,” I laughed.

“Viv! Those are beautiful! Did you do those all by yourself?” he asked, lowering his phone to look over at what she was working on.

I’d started her off with flooding cookies with their base color, then showed her how to paint thin icing with light, even strokes that she mastered far faster than I had. She beamed at his praise, and he winked at me over her head. I grinned back, my heart so full I thought it might burst.

“Is he asleep?” Art whispered over Merry’s head, lowering the thick book we were still working our way through, a few chapters a night.

Merry had settled himself between us on the couch when Art had started reading, but he’d curled up against his dad a few pages in. Until a few minutes earlier, he’d still been opening his eyes periodically.

“I think so,” I said, after watching the little boy’s face for movement now that his dad’s voice had changed cadence. Then, tipping my head toward the armchair by the fire, I added, “So is she.”

Art smiled when our eyes met. “I’ll carry him up, if you get her?”

“It’s a deal,” I said softly, unfolding myself from my corner of the couch.

As Art grunted, got to his feet with a grunt, and hoisted Merry into his arms, I gently shook Viv’s shoulder.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Time for bed,” I said softly.

Viv muttered something unintelligible, but she got to her feet with my help and let me wrap my arm around her waist to guide her toward the stair ladder to their rooms.

“Didn’t want to like you,” Viv muttered, more than half asleep as we trudged up step by step. “But you’re not so bad, Meg.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Viv,” I replied, softly enough to give her probable deniability, squeezing her in a gentle side-hug.

Viv was awake enough by the time we made it to her room to get herself ready for bed, so I left her to it and headed back to the kitchen.

As well as the ones that she’d finished decorating, Viv had flooded most of the cookies I needed for the grand opening with the pearlescent base coat of icing. I had to admit that I greatly appreciated the help, which had saved me hours of work.

The final batch of cookies were teacup-shaped, inspired by the china that Peggy had been collecting for us. The patterns lent themselves nicely to my particular technique of painting the designs on a smooth white icing background rather than using a more traditional decorating approach. I was focused on a delicate pattern of daisies, the radio playing softly in the background, when Art finally joined me in the kitchen.

He stopped by my chair on his way to the sink to place a tender kiss on the back of my neck. The combined sensation of his warm breath, soft lips, and beard sent shivers down my back. When he whispered softly, “You smell so good,” I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. Reaching back, I placed my hand behind his head and pulled it forward, turning so I could kiss him properly, and was rewarded with a low growl for my efforts.

“Fell asleep in his bed again, did you?” I teased after releasing him a few minutes later. The rhythmic rumbling coming from Merry’s bedroom had been a dead giveaway.

Art grinned sheepishly at me. “You know it. What can I say? He’s just so snuggly and that bed is shockingly comfortable.”