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Her face pales as her expression falls. “Oh my God.”
She pushes me away and hops off the counter only to race to the oven. As soon as she pulls open the door, black smoke billows out, the acrid scent of burnt food spilling out into the kitchen. “The cookies!”
So lost in our make-out session, neither of us must have heard the timer go off, but we both jump as the sound of the smoke detector shrieks in our ears.
“Shut it off,” she yells as she points to the offending white cylinder on the ceiling, all the while waving a dish towel in front of the open oven.
Yeah, we’re definitely not getting back that stolen moment now. While I pull out a chair to reach the alarm, Evie opens several windows in the kitchen. The blast of freezing air assaults my previously heated skin.
By the time the situation is under control, Evie gazes at me with tears in her eyes and a trembling lip. “I wanted to make special cookies for you, even if you wouldn’t get them for a few days.”
I glance at the stove top where the tray of cookies resembles blackened heaps of ash. “Maybe they don’t taste as bad as they look?”
“Are you kidding me right now? They’re completely ruined!”
The first sob slips past her kiss-swollen lips.
Not today. Not on my watch.
If I don’t get any perfect Evie O faces for Christmas, then she doesn’t get to cry over burnt cookies either. It’s not like I have any regrets about why they got burned in the first place.
Just as I’m formulating a plan to fix this mess, a song floats on the still-smoky air that solidifies my reroute.
I pull Evie into the center of the kitchen, then sway in time to the music until she stops sniffling enough to gaze up at me with questioning eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Dancing with you.” I offer her a smile to convince her that I’m not bent about our latest mishap. When the next line starts, I sing along. “Baby, it’s cold outside…”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she regains composure. “And singing, too?”
“Yeah. Maybe you could sing for me instead? Or maybe we could sing together. Sure beats sitting in a crowded auditorium, working up the nerve to talk to you or give you a bouquet of roses.”
A look that can only be translated as wonder crosses her face. “You really are the most romantic guy on the whole planet, you know that?”
That’s funny because most of the time I feel like the whole planet is against me. But if I’ve still got a dog in this fight, then I’m not going down until she kills every last shred of hope I carry. “Gosh, your lips taste delicious.”
She picks up the next line, playing along as we sway across the worn tile, taking turns singing to each other. In another lifetime, I never would have imagined a moment as perfect as this.
It’s strange how tragedy shifts a person’s priorities. In that respect, bad times can be the best things that ever happen to us.
The singing, smiling girl in my arms is definitely the best thing that ever happened to me.
The song ends, but I don’t let her go. I want to prolong this little bubble of happiness for as long as possible.
“I forgot what a good dancer you are,” she whispers, then stops our motion. “I also forgot I have more dough! I’ll just make you more cookies!”
Before she can carry out her plans, Evie’s mom bursts into the kitchen, with the rest of the family hot on her heels. “Rob! You made it!”
Evie’s warm arms are replaced by hugs and kisses from everyone as they chatter about the unexpected snowstorm, the delayed Christmas plans on my account, and how happy they are to have me here.
I’ve never felt so much like part of a loving family as I do when I’m at the Papageorgiou house. Once these people welcome you into their fold, there’s no going back.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You smell like a pig sty.” YiaYia slaps my cheek affectionately. “Go shower while I fix you a plate. You must be hungry after all the travel.”
Evie and I exchange a surprised glance. That’s an unexpected offer from such a traditional woman.
“Oh, that’s all right. I actually have to get home and see Ma. She’s waiting for me.”
