The cookie cutters came out—Alyssa’s collection was extensive and chaotic, ranging from traditional stars and trees to inexplicable shapes like dinosaurs and what might have been a deformed cat.
“Why do you have a cookie cutter shaped like a bum?” Evelyn asked, holding up the offending item.
“That’s a heart.”
“That’s absolutely a bum.”
“It’s a heart that looks like a bum. There’s a difference.”
Evelyn’s laugh was sudden and bright, transforming her whole face. Alyssa wanted to bottle that sound, keep it somewhere safe.
They cut out shapes—mostly traditional, though Alyssa snuck in a few bum-hearts when Evelyn wasn’t looking. Bug supervised from his position of comfort, occasionally offering a bark of what Alyssa chose to interpret as approval.
The baking itself was surprisingly peaceful. They sat on the floor in front of the oven, watching the cookies rise and brown through the glass door, not talking, just existing together in the warm, ginger-scented air.
“This is nice,” Evelyn said eventually.
“Yeah,” Alyssa agreed. “It really is.”
“Should we make them traditional gingerbread men?” Evelyn asked. “Or can we be more…creative?”
Alyssa grinned. “Define creative.”
Evelyn set her jaw, like she was about to propose a hostile takeover. “Let’s make a Christmas tree. But not just any tree. I want a replica of the one in Trafalgar Square. Complete with lights and pigeons.”
“Lights?”
“We’ll use silver balls. Those sugar things.”
“I like the ambition, Crawford.”
“I never do anything half-arsed,” Evelyn said. She pressed her thumb into the dough, sculpting an approximation of the Norwegian spruce, then glanced up. “What about you? Have you always done this kind of thing?”
“Christmas cookies? Yeah. Mum and dad moved all the time, so I made my own traditions.”
“You ever think about expanding? Opening another location?”
Alyssa shook her head firmly, focusing on rolling the dough. “Four Paws is exactly where it needs to be. I’m not interested in uprooting what we’ve built or spreading myself too thin.”
“That’s admirable,” Evelyn said softly. “Knowing what you want and staying committed to it.”
“It’s not always easy,” Alyssa admitted. “People assume I should want more—bigger facilities, multiple locations, that kind of thing. But Four Paws isn’t just a business. It’s home.”
“I understand that,” Evelyn said. “More than you might think.”
They lapsed into silence, the good kind. Alyssa kept waiting for her usual restlessness to kick in, the urge to fill the air with some story or joke, but it didn’t. It was enough to…exist. Next to Evelyn, hands sticky with molasses and flour, Bug wedged between their ankles, all of it felt embarrassingly right.
By the time they’d cut, baked, and decorated two trays’ worth of cookies, the kitchen was a warzone. There was icing in Alyssa’s hair and a powdered sugar handprint on Evelyn’s arse that neither of them wanted to address.
Alyssa licked a dab of royal icing off her knuckle and handed a finished biscuit to Bug, who snatched it with surgical precision. “I think we made more of a mess than actual cookies,” she said.
“Worth it,” Evelyn replied, stealing a silver ball and popping it in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, her face unreadable.
Alyssa watched her, heart drumming in her chest. If Evelyn hated it, she’d laugh it off. If she loved it, she’d…well, Alyssa wasn’t sure. This was uncharted territory.
Evelyn set her Christmas tree cookie on the table, then perched on the edge, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
