Pausing, I sigh and glance up at the words engraved above the entrance.McKenna Rehab Centerthey read. Releasing the breath I’m holding and shifting a little to even out the tray of cookies in my arms, I take a step forward. Instantly the double doors widen, allowing me to enter.
Even though I turned my back and walked away from Neil McKenna this morning, tradition is tradition. Besides, it’s like something was driving me to bake these cookies once I got home from my teaching job this afternoon.
I stroll through the double doors with my head held high, shoulders back, and a friendly smile on my face. The heels of my ankle boots sound against the hardwood flooring of the rehab center.
“Keep going, Desi,” I encourage myself because even though this is probably like the thousandth time I’ve entered these doors, the morose feeling that always accompanies these walls never seems to lighten.
“Hi, can I help you?” a friendly voice chimes from my right. “Oh, Desiree.” Rachel’s smile increases. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Things have been pretty busy today,” she informs me in that flustered way of hers.
“Hi, Rachel, no worries.” I hold up the cookies. “Just wanted to drop these off.”
“Oh.” Her eyes drop to what I can only assume is the calendar on her desk as she says, “October 3rd.” Her brown eyes take on a somber look as she nods, her smile fading at the corners.
I manage to make my smile even brighter, denying the lump in my throat that’s threatening to form.
“Let me call Mr. McKenna.” The phone is in her hand before she’s able to finish her statement.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I just wanted to drop these off. I’m sure he’s got more important things to worry about.”
Rachel waves me off and gives me a crazy expression as she tucks the phone between the side of her head and shoulder. “Hey, Gloria, can you tell Mr. McKenna Desiree Jackson is here to see him.” She pauses. “Yup, she’s brought her delicious cookies with her, of course. Okay, I will.”
Rachel hangs up the phone and looks at me with a bit of a sparkle in her eye. “Mr. McKenna will be right out.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Another wave of dismissal. “He’d probably fire me if I let you leave this place without letting him know.”
I run my teeth over my bottom lip, wondering why that comment felt more intimate than it should’ve. Or am I making things up? My mind wanders back to our encounter that morning.
Will he be happy to see me after telling him he didn’t know what he was talking about? Why does the thought of him being upset with me bother me so much? I barely know him.
“What kind of cookies did you make for us?” Rachel inquires, breaking into my thoughts.
I lift my eyebrows and smile, happy to talk about one of my favorite subjects.
“Well, it’s October, so of course I did the usual pumpkin spice latte cookies with the cream cheese icing, and some with chocolate chips this time around. Jackie said they were a hit last year.”
“She was right,” Rachel exclaims.
“Try one. Let me know what you think.” I undo the saran wrap covering, exposing some of the cookies, allowing Rachel to reach in for one. “I also made the standard chocolate chip, red velvet cookies, butter cookies, and oatmeal raisin,” I add.
“Which are my favorite?” a deep voice asks behind me.
I have to force my body not to shudder, so I don’t drop the tray of cookies right onto Rachel’s desk. Clearing my throat, I place the cookies down and turn to find Neil standing there, staring at me in much the same way he had this morning.
Though there’s a warm, welcoming smile on his face, it’s the impact of the gleam in his eyes that reaches down into the depths of my core, shaking up my insides. Thinking back, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel the entire weight of that stare. Even when I spoke with Neil strictly in regards to my sister’s treatment and needs, it felt as if his eyes were conveying something entirely different than detox and treatment plans.
“Mister— Neil,” I correct when his head dips ever so slightly, and his smile wavers just a touch.
“Desiree,” he releases my name on an exhale as if he’d been holding it in all day.
For some reason, that forces the corners of my lips to tip up into a smile.
“Mr. McKenna, Desiree brought her famous cookies. The pumpkin spice lattes with the cream cheese are amazing,” Rachel says behind me. “I tried to order these from your website back in September, and you were sold out.”
Grinning, I turn to look at Rachel. “That’s because I was saving those ingredients for you all.”
“So glad you did.” She takes another bite of her cookie, and my heart flutters a little, same as it always does when I see someone enjoying one of my creations.
