“Dad got the money back, but things were different by then. I’d made other choices.” I shrug. That’s pretty much all of it. The details are history.
Gabe is around the table, wrapping me up in his arms.
I sink into him and finally grieve the past, all the things I missed out on, what my life could have been if I’d visited at least.
His big, warm hand cups the back of my neck, and his mouth presses to the top of my head.
It’s a more grown up, intimate version of what he did for me as a kid.
Always my rock when life got tumultuous.
And this time, when I lean my head back, Gabe gives me the kiss I want before he spins me out of his arms and pats me on the butt.
It draws a smile out of me, and we dig back into the baking.
Once the cupcakes are cooled and the simple ones frosted, Gabe leaves to take care of some Lodge stuff, and I start the real decorating.
I pipe pinecones and holly and Christmas trees on the vanilla custard cupcakes, don the gingerbread tops with little cookie men and a hand-piped white chocolate snowflake, Santa macarons on the figgy pudding cakes, then break up the bacon bark and pierce the maple cupcakes.
Gabe returns as I put the last of the finishing touches on them.
I’m proud of my work.
I have more skills than Dad ever let me prove, but I was always too good at being a people pleaser up front, which meant that Dad never allowed me to show off in the back.
Even though I baked with Mom at home all the time.
She taught me a lot of smaller skills. The details. How to elevate flavor.
I might have twisted a few of her recipes in this batch because no one was here to stop me.
It was actually fun, but it’s also not something I want to do full time.
Gabe eyes the extra batch of cupcakes—the white chocolate, orange, cranberry ones with the candied orange slices and sugar frosted cranberries on top.
It won’t be a popular flavor, but it hits my palette.
“Wow, did you make your own flavor?”
“Yeah.”
He tries one, and his eyes bug. “Holy shit.”
I laugh as his head falls back and his mouth fills with the other half of the cupcake. “I’m glad you like it.”
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see this side of you again.” He cinches his arm around my waist and pulls me close. A soft kiss melts me a little.
I really like this version of my life. Of us.
“You need help getting those stored?” He’s too sweet. To me at least. I see how he grumps at other people.
“Sure. That would be great.”
Somehow, make them all fit in the fridge. It’s close though.
When Gabe leaves me to get back to work again, a new wave of nausea and dizziness hits again.
I spend too much time bent over with my forehead against the cold metal worksurface before I text Daisy.
