“Something smells amazing.”
Holly startled, nearly dropping the spoon. Daniel stood in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space, his presence immediately making the kitchen feel smaller, warmer.
“Chicken Alfredo,” she managed, turning back to the stove to hide the flush she could feel spreading across her cheeks. “Nothing fancy.”
“Smells fancy to me.” He moved beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell the faint woodsy scent of his soap mingling with the aroma of the sauce. “Need any help?”
“I think I’ve got it under control.” She gestured to the pasta draining in the colander. “Just need to mix everything together.”
“I’ll lay the table.” Daniel reached past her for plates from the cabinet, his arm brushing against her shoulder. The contact, brief as it was, sent a jolt through her system that had nothing to do with static electricity.
This was dangerous. This domestic bliss, this easy companionship, was addictive. And terrifying. Because none of it was truly hers.
“Kids! Dinner’s ready,” Holly called, forcing brightness into her voice.
The transition from living room to kitchen unfolded with such natural ease that it made her heart ache. Teddy raced in, sliding the last few feet in his socks. Maisie took her place at the table with practiced grace. Daniel brought glasses of water, moving around Holly as if they’d choreographed this dance a thousand times.
Holly set the serving bowl in the center of the table, suddenly self-conscious. “I hope everyone likes pasta.”
“Pasta is my favorite food in the whole universe!” Teddy declared, bouncing slightly in his seat.
“Everything is your favorite food,” Maisie said, rolling her eyes but smiling.
“That’s not true. I hate brussels sprouts.”
Daniel served the children first, his movements confident and familiar. Holly watched as he cut Teddy’s chicken into bite-sized pieces without being asked, and made sure Maisie’s napkin was unfolded in her lap.
“This looks delicious, Holly,” he said, finally serving himself. His eyes met hers across the table, warm and appreciative in a way that made her breath catch.
“It’s just pasta,” she murmured, but pleasure bloomed in her chest at his praise.
As they ate, Holly found herself caught in the easy rhythm of family dinner. Maisie leaned against her arm while describing a complicated art project at school, her small body warm and trusting. Teddy interrupted with questions and observations,sauce occasionally missing his mouth in his enthusiasm. Daniel kept everything flowing, redirecting conversations when they veered toward chaos, sharing glances with Holly that felt like private jokes.
It was effortless. Too effortless.
Holly felt herself slipping into a role she had no right to occupy. This wasn’t her family. These weren’t her children. This wasn’t her life.
“Holly, are you still going to help me decorate the cookies after dinner?” Maisie asked, her eyes filled with hope.
“Of course,” Holly replied.
“You’re the best, Holly!” Teddy beamed at her, sauce smeared across one cheek.
No, she wasn’t. She was a coward. Running from one life straight into another that she hadn’t earned.
“This is really good pasta,” Daniel said, his voice pulling her back to the present. “You’ve been holding out on us with your cooking skills.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Holly said, the words slipping out before she could consider them. “My cooking skills are basic. I have mastered a few simple dishes, that’s all.”
“Simple is good,” Daniel said with a smile that made her feel as if she were a master chef.
Why did he have such an effect on her?
After dinner, Daniel shooed her away from the cleanup. “You cooked, I’ll clean,” he insisted, already gathering plates. “Besides, I think someone’s waiting for you.”
Maisie tugged at Holly’s hand. “Cookie time!”
Holly let herself be led to the counter where the sugar cookies waited in neat rows, their golden edges perfectly baked.
