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We finish off the last pair of socks and step back to admire our neat piles of clean clothes. Then instead of leaving, Luke turns and props a hip against the counter, blocking my exit.
“Do you need to take my car?”
“I’m sure I can bum a ride.”
He nods, mulling this over with a look of slight annoyance. I think he’s fighting back the urge to give me his two cents, but instead he settles for asking where I’m going to dinner.
“Pierre’s?”
I say it like a question, wondering if he’s been there.
“Oh yeah? That place has the best onion rings.” He pushes off the counter, about to head out. “Should be fun.”
TEN
LUKE
Other than the strawberry cake earlier in the week, Chloe hasn’t enlisted Harper’s help much in the kitchen, but Thursday afternoon—a few hours after I helped her fold laundry—she knocks on my open office door.
“Have a sec?”
She’s wearing jean shorts and a white t-shirt with her apron on top. Today’s apron is covered in a ladybug print. Yesterday’s was blue and green polka dots.
I nod, and she wrings her hands as she begins, “I totally understand that you’re here this summer to spend time with your daughter and I should make myself scarce…”
Well, when she puts it like that, I sound like a bit of an ass.
“But I thought I would ask, on the off chance you say it’s okay…I’m planning on making pizza tonight before I head to Pierre’s, and I thought it could be fun if Harper helped. Pizza is a good way to introduce kids to cooking. There are no exact measurements required and she doesn’t have to be scared about making a mess since I’ll set up everything outside. She did great the other day with the strawberry cake, and she seems really eager to learn.”
She finishes all of this with a relieved sigh like she’s been rehearsing this speech in her head all morning. That’s how badly she wants me to let Harper join her.
I should probably still say no and keep the erected walls exactly as formidable as they have been, but I find myself agreeing anyway.
“Yeah, okay. That’s fine.”
Chloe’s responding smile could melt snow. “Okay! Awesome!” She darts down the hall then curses and flies back to reappear in my open doorway. “Obviously you can help too. I’m not trying to exclude you or anything. I just figured you have better things to do.”
I close out the game footage I was watching on my computer.
“I could probably help for a bit.”
When Chloe tells Harper she’ll be acting as her official sous chef tonight, she accompanies the announcement with the unveiling of an apron she must have picked up in town.
“I know you wanted there to be a unicorn on it, but I couldn’t find that on such short notice. However, this apron is pink and purple! So I checked two boxes at least.”
“I love it!” Harper exclaims, running over to take it from her so she can tug it on over her head right away. “I’ll look just like you. A real chef. Dad, take our picture!”
Oh okay, great. Yeah, let me snap a picture of my hot employee posing next to my daughter so I can just keep that on my camera roll. Sounds good.
I do it, and then Harper asks for another.
“Wait, I want to do a silly one too.”
Am I in hell?
“Yup. Got it,” I lie, already pocketing my phone.
Chloe looks at me, and it feels like she can read my thoughts. Can she tell how strange this is? How simultaneously natural and unnatural it feels to have her as part of our small family unit?
There’s a pizza oven outside adjacent to the outdoor kitchen and grill, and that’s where Chloe has set everything up for us. She proceeds to run through it all. There are fresh toppings and herbs from the garden, homemade crust, and a sauce she learned to make from her Nonna.
Harper shapes her dough into a heart with Chloe’s help. I keep mine the standard circle, but I lay out my pepperoni slices like laces on a baseball, which gets a round of applause from Chloe when she comes over to inspect it.
“Very creative.”
I raise a taunting brow. “Why do I feel like you’re my kindergarten teacher praising my scribbles?”
She acts affronted by the idea that her enthusiasm might not be genuine. “What? No. It’s cute. I mean sure, the distribution of toppings is completely thrown off by the design, but I’m no critic.”
She tosses me a wink before answering Harper’s call for help with arranging her shredded cheese. It’s several seconds before I realize I’m still staring at her long after she’s walked away.
After all the pizzas are out of the oven (the good ones Chloe made and the shitty ones we concocted), Chloe motions toward the house. “Okay, enjoy, you guys! I need to go clean up the kitchen and then shower or I’m going to be late.”
