Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 19583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Of course, I wrap her in the biggest hug while she keeps her sticky fingers away from me.
Mom's smile is wide, her eyes glossy. "Oh honey, where's your beau? My mind is all over the place trying to get the food ready. I'm making my cinnamon rolls. You should come help me and Evelyn in the kitchen with the rest of the desserts."
I laugh because Collin's right, the conversation goes in every direction but a straight line. After tossing my stuff into my childhood bedroom, I take a lingering look around the room. It's clean but still has that faint scent of warm vanilla and cinnamon.
It smells like home.
A full-sized bed takes up most of the space, with a tall oak dresser in the corner. There's a TV mounted to the wall that I'm not sure still works, but the fading lavender-pink walls flood my mind with memories from my teenage years. I can still replay the conversations and debates with my friends from all those years ago. I close the door, not wanting to waste time reminiscing when it's clear my mother wants me in the kitchen with her and Evelyn.
Evelyn is kneading dough furiously on the floured countertop of the kitchen island.
"Evil Lynne, what's wrong with the dough?" I ask her, circling the island to blow a raspberry on her cheek. Annoying her is a time-honored treasure and tradition. That doesn’t change just because we’re all adults.
She groans and huffs, flaring her nostrils as she tries to shoulder me away from her. "Don't start, Dan-Hell. I'm going to get the hang of this chocolate croissant dough if it kills me. It's Jake's favorite, and I just—"
Her frustration morphs into sobs, and I suddenly feel like a piece of shit. It’s the last thing I want to do—upset her and make her cry before dinner. I move to hug her, but she shrugs away from me. "Ev, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break the dam."
"It's fine." She sniffs back tears and goes back to kneading the dough. "If Jake's not going to eat it, at least you guys will be able to. Right? And you're dating our brother or some imaginary friend? What's going on with that?"
"Collin, the tattooed kid who stayed here before he aged out of the system. The one Dad taught to drive," I tell her, wondering if she remembers him.
"Oh, you mean Leftie," she says.
My reaction is visceral, anger rising from my chest. "Don't call him that."
It feels like I'm seventeen all over again, chastising people who just don't know why that's a horrible thing to call Collin. He looked out for me, but in my own way, I also did the same thing for him. Even at that age, I knew Collin was special, and I hated everyone who either made fun of him or treated him like he was a menace.
"Geez. Relax, Dani. He's the one who told us to call him that." She rolls her eyes and gets back to kneading.
"I'm telling you that he doesn't like it. His name is Collin. Now, what can I do to help?" I shift my attention to Mom, who's kneading a ball of dough sans chocolate. The kitchen is in absolute chaos, but I know Mom has everything under control.
She chastises us in a tone that brings me back to childhood. "You two, don't fight. Energy soaks into everything, and I don't need angry desserts. Um, I wanted to tackle all the dough and flour stuff first, so once I put the flour back in the pantry, I don't have to pull it back out."
"Okay." I stop her before she starts rambling. "What's on the menu?"
Mom's eyes light up and warm my heart because this is her time to shine. She loves cooking for us, especially when we're all home at the same time. She gushes over the food she has planned. "Okay, so we're tackling desserts for Christmas night today, but for this Christmas Eve dinner, I'm doing my signature cherry bourbon-glazed ham, scalloped potatoes, pigs in a blanket, and chicken pot pie. Everything is already made; just gotta pop them in the oven to reheat. I also have a lasagna already made and in the pan in the freezer for tomorrow. Just bake. Plus, there will be green bean casserole and good ole steak."
I laugh. "And dessert?"
"We’ll have cinnamon rolls, croissants, cranberry bread pudding, and hot chocolate fudge. Oh, I forgot about the roasted Brussels sprout."
Evelyn's face twists in disgust. "You had me all the way up until you said Brussels sprouts.”
"You'll like it, Ev," Mom insists, her eyes turning to me. "I got a new recipe off the TikTok. Blanch them and then toss them in olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic, and a vinaigrette. I think I'm supposed to broil them a few minutes after—"