And just like that, all I’m doing is picturing myself inserted into both their lives.
Chapter Four
CHELSEA
“Mom?” As I glance over at Deaton, I see he’s covered in flour.
I laugh. “Yes, honey?”
I’m lucky that I have a son who has a love for baking. It also keeps him busy while I have to work. I was adamant that when I had children, I didn’t want them to be stuck in front of an i-Pad, or playing computer games. While those things have a place, so does being outdoors and doing more productive things, like cooking and tending to our own little herb garden; he enjoys growing things. It’s my dream to have a garden one day where we can grow veggies, but it’s a little hard in an apartment. We have our herb wall, and that’s enough for now. Deaton loves walks and bike rides, and we try to get out almost every day. He’s wanted a puppy for as long as I can remember, but with my schedule, and never being in my apartment until late at night, wouldn’t be fair on the dog, or on Deaton. One day, when I get my shit together and get an actual house, I’d love to have a puppy, but that won’t be happening anytime soon.
“I think I put in too much liquid.”
I glance over, and sure enough, his dough is a sloppy mess. We’re making his favorite — chocolate chip cookies. “It’s okay.”I smile. “We’ll just add some more flour, and more chocolate chips.”
I do just that, and like magic, we’re back in business. We’ve made these umpteen times, and Deacon loves being helpful. I brush a hand through his dark hair, it’s exactly the same as mine, and he has the same blue eyes. We have our moments, but for the most part he’s a great kid. Quiet, but with a curious nature, just like I was at his age. He’s also kind and generous, making friends easily and being considerate of others.
“That reminds me,” I go on. “Grandma and Grandpa are away for the next two weeks, so how would you feel about Brad picking you up on Friday after school?”
He looks up, his eyes giving away his excitement. “For real?”
I laugh. He loves hanging out with Brad. “For real.”
He does a little chocolate-chip-dough clap, a cloud of flour puffing in front of his excited face. “Yeah! That will be so cool. Will he pick me up in his sports car?”
I try hard not to roll my eyes. Brad has the ultimate chick-magnet ride. Apparently, a Porsche 911, GT-3 — whatever that means — is enough to get my six-year-old excited. It’s silvery blue and ridiculously luxurious, with leather seats and electric everything. It’s a showstopper. Boys and their toys.
“I don’t know? I was thinking he could borrow the mini-van?” I’m joking, of course. Brad will drive safely with my son in the car, I know it, and he’d get a real kick out of it.
Deaton, however, looks horrified. “Mom!”
“What?” I shrug. “It has all the safety features, and it’ll be more convenient, plus you’ll have the team’s soccer jerseys, because it’s my turn to wash. It makes sense. I don’t think Brad’s two-seater has much room for any of that stuff.”
He palms his forehead, leaving a nice sticky residue of dough there. “Please tell me you’re joking!”
I can’t hold in my laughter. “I’m kidding. But you have to wear your seatbelt, and listen to whatever Brad says, okay? No negotiating.” He also gets that trait from me.
“This is so cool!” He does a little dance, and I laugh even more. “Maybe Brad will let me drive?”
“I sincerely doubt that.” I lean over and wipe his forehead with a cloth. “You’re six.”
“Could we ask Brad to come and try my cookies? He likes chocolate at least, I’m pretty sure he does.”
“I think he’s busy working, honey, but we could drive by and see if he’s in the office. I have to drop these samples into Mason, so that’s a perfect excuse.”
He does another little dance. My little man is the cutest. I love that we have this time together, just us, baking. I’m busy, but I always make time for him and include family time. Even when Rose watches him sometimes after school, he’s never far away from me.
We’ve been through thick and thin, and he’s my rock. He can always sense when I’m down, and I definitely don’t want him to think anything bad going on in my life is because of him. He’s a kid, and he should be allowed to be one.
I still haven’t told him about the bakery, and I need to. It’s only a matter of time before they come and stick a For Sale sign in the front window. I’m dreading that day. Then there’s the added pressure of having to move and set up a new business. I’ve contemplated quitting altogether and just getting a job as a baker somewhere. Somehow, that idea didn’t strike me as a good one, but I have to consider all options. And then there’s the added stress of finding a house or apartment within my budget, in the area close to Deaton’s school… the anxiety of it all could bring me out in hives. I also need to tell my parents, but with their trip this weekend, I didn’t want to set alarm bells ringing. All of that can wait until they get back from vacation.
When the cookies are baked to perfection and cooled, we box them up to take to Brad’s office, along with the three samples I made earlier for Mason to taste. I’m really excited about the birthday cake; I absolutely love making them. It brings me joy to bring people together, especially at birthday parties and Christmas; it’s my favorite time of year.
When we arrive, Deaton goes running ahead of me with the cookies as I carry the containers of sponge samples. “Deaton!” I yell after him. “Don’t go barging into the office?—”
It’s too late — he runs into Brad’s office without knocking and I facepalm myself.
I swear I taught my child manners, but he loves being around the Lucas brothers, their dad, and Mason.
