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“Hello, sweetheart,” she said, a warm smile on her face. She held up a square dish. “I come bearing gifts.”
“Christmas isn’t until next week,” I said as I held the door open for her to come in.
“It’s not for Christmas, dear. It’s just because.” She set the dish in front of Grayson, and his eyes went wide as he stared down at the chocolate chip cookies layered inside. “Do you like cookies, Grayson?”
“That depends. What’s in them?”
“Well, it’ll be easier to tell you what’s not in them. Nuts. Or legumes. Or anything even remotely close to an allergen.”
He licked his lips. “Okay, then, yes. I love cookies.”
“I thought so,” Ms. Hattie said, winking at him. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. My chest hurt at first but I’m better now. Oh, and my leg hurt, too. I didn’t know the EpiPen would hurt that bad.”
Guilt stabbed me in the heart, but I kept my face neutral because Grayson had looked up at me when he’d said it. “I know, I’m sorry, buddy.”
“It’s okay, I just don’t want to do it again.”
“Well,” Ms. Hattie said on a sigh, patting his shoulder, “no one is going to let it happen again. Don’t you worry.” Then she turned to me, and we walked into the kitchen. “How are you feeling? Are you still having trouble sleeping?”
I’d confided in her about my sleeping trouble the day before when I’d seen her at the market, and it had felt good to tell someone other than Zac. He’d been supportive, of course, but it wasn’t the same thing as a mother figure like Ms. Hattie. She oozed comfort like it was her job and talking to her had really helped.
“Last night was much better. I’m still exhausted, even though I finally got a good night’s sleep, but I think I’m heading out of the worst of it.”
“Good. I’m proud of you, Layla. You were so brave that night and you’ve been brave in dealing with it this week. Keep it up.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, Ms. Hattie,” Zac said as he came back into the room, sliding his phone in his pocket. “Did you guys close up downstairs? You and Thatcher wanna join us for dinner? I’m trying my hand at chicken marsala.”
“Is that what I smell? Mm, it smells heavenly in here.”
“Ask him if he wants to stay. We’d love to have you,” I said. “Jo brought dinner to Trevor’s house tonight since he’s still laid up, but Zac still cooked for an army.”
He rolled his eyes. “Hey, never underestimate the power of convenient leftovers.”
“Good point,” I replied.
“I’ll ask Thatcher, but I’m sure he’ll say yes. The man wouldn’t turn down Italian food if you paid him.”
Smiling at her, I grabbed two extra place settings and began to set the table. As I did, I looked over at Zac while he took our dinner out of the oven. “Hey, what did Beau wanna talk about?”
“Not much. Just called to see how we’re doing.”
“That was sweet of him,” Ms. Hattie crooned. Then her eyes took on an all-too-familiar glint. “You know, he’s a really great man. One would even say he’s like a real-life romance hero, don’t you think?”
Zac and I shared a look, and I narrowed my eyes at her. “Don’t get any ideas, Ms. Hattie. Haven’t you done enough meddling in people’s love lives already?”
“Who, me?” She placed a hand over her heart, mock offense on her round face.
“Yes, you,” Zac said, pointing at her with the spatula he held. “Or do we need to remind you about a certain Target shopping trip?”
She dropped the hand from her chest and gave us a flat stare. “Ah, you figured that one out, did you?”
“You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window,” Zac told her, shaking his head at Grayson when he looked alarmed.
“Well,” Ms. Hattie said, crossing her arms over her chest with that mischievous twinkle in her eye again, “maybe I just need to step up my game.”
