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"Wow, Giant, you look like him," Charlotte says, still in awe and pointing to John.
Everybody can't help but laugh at her pure reaction.
"And you young lady are just as beautiful as your mother," John says, while shifting his gaze between us.
Charlotte beams.
Martha then focuses her attention on me. She holds out her hand, and I take it. "Hello Emma. I'm so thrilled to meet the woman that’s making my boy so happy."
Heat rushes to my cheeks. Not knowing how to react to the compliment, I hold out the box with sweets.
"This is for you,” I say, overwhelmed by the warm welcome.
"Oh well, thank you, dear." Martha opens the box, and her mouth drops open at the sight of the content. "Oh my goodness, John. Look at these," she says while admiring the cupcakes like they are masterpieces. "They are like the ones in baking magazines."
Her husband chuckles as he sees his wife in awe with a box of pastries.
"My mommy made those. She's the best baker in the world," Charlotte says with pride.
"You made these?"Martha asks me.
"Yes, I have a small baking company."
Her eyes narrow as she stares at her son, who is blatantly avoiding looking at her. "Nickolas Brown. Why didn't you tell me she's a baker?" Her finger points to him, and he sends her one of his charming smiles. "Let me guess, you told her how bad I am at baking, didn't you?"
I can’t help but chuckle at her response. Nickolas is his full name; it suits him.
"Nick tried to bake a chocolate cake at our house, and mom said it turned out black and yucky," Charlotte comments, pinching her nose as Martha and John laugh.
"Yeah, it seems he inherited that gene from me. I love to bake, but I'm terrible at it. When Nick called this morning, I made a cake, but knowing you're a baker, I will not show it."
"Oh, I'm willing to try it. It can't be as bad as Nick's black chocolate cake."
He gives me a playful push against my shoulder.
"You really want to try my creation?" Martha asks.
Nick shakes his head. "That's not a good idea, Emma. Last time I—"
"Hush it," his mom interrupts. "Finally, an expert can give me an honest opinion." She turns and places my box on the long wooden dining table and walks to another part of her kitchen.
"Can I go play in the garden?" Charlotte asks as she peaks outside.
"Sure. Can I come with you?" John asks. "I can show you the treehouse Nick and I built when he was young."
"You have a treehouse?" Charlotte's eyes grow as she gawks at him.
"We sure do."
She runs to the backdoor. "Let's go."
John looks at me for approval. I nod and they make their way into the garden. A pang of nostalgia hits me as contradicting emotions swirl in my chest. His parents are so caring and normal...
Nick bends his head. "I’ll apologize for it upfront," he mutters.
I elbow him in his ribs. "Your mother is trying. So the least I can do is try it," I whisper back.
"The last time she made me try one of her creations, she almost killed me." He chuckles.
