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I froze and looked at Everett, as Sophie pelted us both with a handful of flour and then broke into laughter again.
By the time we had all surrendered, the kitchen looked as if a bomb had gone off in a bakery. Flour coated every surface. Each of us wore flour from head to toe. Sophie laughed and held up her phone.
“Say pancakes!” she screamed.
Everett pulled me against him without thinking. Warmth bled through his flour-covered t-shirt, and Sophie snapped photo after photo.
“Now do a silly one! Now, a serious one! Oh…now pretend you’re mad at each other!” She shouted.
Everett’s serious face lasted about a second before Sophie stuck her tongue out at him. The moment she did, he laughed, an actual laugh, full and warm, rumbling through his chest where my shoulder pressed against him.
I had heard him groan, curse, and say my name right after he’d kissed me, but I’d never heard him laugh like that.
“These pancakes are going to be amazing.” Sophie shouted, throwing her arms around Everett and hugging him.
I quickly cooked the pancakes, and then the three of us sat down and devoured them. Twenty minutes later, Sophie declared it was the best breakfast ever, while maple syrup dripped from her chin. Everett caught my eye from across the island and smiled, mouthing, thank you.
I reached over and stole a piece of bacon from his plate while Sophie scrolled through the photos she’d taken while we finished our coffee. While Everett was busy texting with someone from the office, I glanced over at the images Sophie was looking at, noticing most of the photos she’d taken were blurry, but a few were sharp enough to stop me.
There was one of Everett and me, mid-flour fight when he had his arm around my waist, and I threw my head back in laughter. My eyes were closed, his were open, and he wasn’t even looking at the camera. He was looking at me. He looked happy. Sophie swiped past it, not knowing what she had captured.
Once we had finished breakfast, we tackled the cleanup. Everett wiped the counters, Sophie pushed flour around on the island with a damp cloth, and I swept. The three of us cleaned the kitchen as if it were something we normally did together every Saturday morning.
We were just finished up when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was Jules and I couldn’t help but smile.
Jules: How is the grumpy hot dad?
I typed back with one hand.
Ember: Made pancakes. Had a flour flight. I think I’m dying.
Jules: Dying good or dying bad?
Ember: Dying. I think I might be in love with my boss, and Sophie took photos of us looking like a family. Dying.
Jules: So dying is bad.
Ember: the worst. Got to go, chat later.
I shoved my phone into my pocket, and the three of us continued cleaning. Everett caught me staring at him twice. The first time I played it off, pretending I was checking the clock over his head, the second time, he held my gaze for a few seconds, then he looked away, cleared his throat, and left the kitchen to go to his office.
The October air bit at my cheeks, and I pulled my sweater tighter around me and hit Jules’ number. Sophie was at the kitchen table working on her Halloween game. I knew I had at least twenty minutes to chat before she finished.
“It’s about time you called.” Jules said, picking up on the first ring. “I have been waiting for a real update, not your cryptic text ones, which, by the way, drive me mad.”
I couldn’t help but laugh; Jules always told me my messages were cryptic. “I know, I’m sorry. Things have been…” I searched for the right word. “Complicated.”
“Complicated? As in, you’re sleeping with your boss, or as in you’re catching feelings for your boss?”
I leaned against the railing and closed my eyes for a moment.
“Both,” I muttered.
“Ember Wilde! Walk me through everything and don’t you dare leave anything out.”
In a matter of minutes, I’d spilled everything. She was quiet for a long time. I imagined her lying there, staring at her ceiling, trying to come up with the best advice she could give.
“How old is he again?” She questioned.
