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Ten
Sydney
“Look at how pretty you’ve made this cookie,” I said, checking out Everly’s design. The sprinkles she had added to the middle. The tiny butterflies and flowers, made of fondant, that she’d pasted around the rim. “You’ve done such a good job.”
“Thank you.” She squirted more frosting on, adding another pile of sprinkles. “Done!” She held it up to view. “It’s so perfect.”
I pointed at the frosting and asked, “What color is this again?”
She picked a piece of it off the side and put it in her mouth. “Turquoise.”
“Nailed it.” I gave her a high five. “For only four years old, you’re so smart.”
“Daddy says I’m his little girl, but I’m really his big girl.”
“You most definitely act like a big girl.”
The purpose of this lesson was for Everly to help measure the ingredients for the cookies, to work on her hand and eye coordination when making each ball the same size, to watch the clock and grasp the concept of patience while we waited for them to bake. And as they were cooking, we worked on the frosting, using food dye to create turquoise and magenta, pumpkin and mint—colors that were beyond the primary shades.
And the whole time, Ford had been watching.
He kept his distance, sitting in the next room, his open floor plan giving him a direct view of everything we were doing. The lesson wasn’t what made me nervous or the fact that I had an audience—I’d anticipated him observing every move, deciding whether I’d be a good fit for his daughter.
It was his stare that made my breath hitch.
My body constantly reminded of his presence.
His hands.
His mouth.
His tongue.
The effect he had on me.
But I couldn’t let that show, so I piped out some pumpkin-colored frosting onto one of the cookies and used the gel icing to draw eyes and teeth, a stem across the top. “Can you guess what this is?”
She wiggled in her seat—a sign that she knew the answer. “He-he. A punkin. Like Halloween!”
“Everly, can you say pumpkin instead?” I sounded out the entire word, emphasizing the letters she had missed.
“Punkin. That’s what I said. Puuunkiiin.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
And I could hear Ford do the same.
“How about this one?” This time, I spread mint-colored frosting across a different cookie and used the gel to draw a long trunk, the leaves at the top making a very specific pattern. I added a small sun in the corner and aimed it toward her. “Can you tell what it is?”
“A tree.”
“And what kind of tree?” I broke a turquoise cookie in half and handed her a piece.
“Mmm.”
The second the frosting hit her lips, it stained them.
Which meant it was doing the same to mine.
Oh God.
“These cookies are the bessst.”
I put my arm around her. “I’m glad you like them.” I used my other hand to point toward the tree, repeating my question.
“Like the trees behind our house,” she said, her hand going to her eye, rubbing over her lid in a circle.
I knew she was getting tired.
We were minutes from bedtime.
I continued to hold the cookie up and said, “Is it an elm tree?”
She shrugged.
“How about a weeping willow tree?”
She shook her head. “That’s a silly name.”
“Hmm.” I added a small bee, made of fondant, just underneath the sun and said, “A palm tree?”
“Yes! Silly me. I forgot what they were called.”
“Great job, Everly.” I set the cookie down and collected all the gel icing. “You were so helpful tonight, counting out all the measurements and helping me keep an eye on the timer and decorating these cookies with me. You’ve done the most fantastic job.”
Her blue lips opened wide. “Can I have another cookie?”
“Last one,” I said even though she’d only eaten half of one. “And then it’s time to brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”
Her smile dropped, and she shook her head. “But I’m not tired. I don’t want to go to bed. I want to stay up and hang out with you.”
“I know, honey.” I set my hand on her shoulder. “The cookies taste so delicious, and we don’t want this fun to end, do we? But do you know what will happen if you go to bed?” I handed her the magenta one she had decorated.
“Yummers.” She took a bite, her teeth now covered in pink. “What?”
“It means, tomorrow will be here even sooner, and do you know what happens then?”
Ford had discussed Everly’s plans over dinner, so I knew exactly what was in store for her.
“No,” she said with a full mouth, more sprinkles falling onto the counter with each bite.
“Hannah comes, and you two are going hiking, remember?”
Her face lit up. “Hiking!” Tiny bits of cookie sprayed from her lips. “With Hannah!”
I pushed some of the baby hairs off her forehead and tucked them into the top of her ponytail. “So, there’s no reason to dread going to sleep. You’re going to have such a blast with Hannah tomorrow.”
“Can you come hiking too?”
Ford entered the kitchen, and the moment he reached us, he stole a cookie from the counter.
“I can’t tomorrow, Everly.” I scooped some of the fallen sprinkles into my hand. “But maybe we can go hiking someday very soon.”
“Daddy, you just ate Syd’s palm tree.”
