Finally, finally, I fell asleep, and when I came down the next morning after sleeping in, an unexpected sight greeted me: Tyler, standing next to my mom and across from my aunt, carefully measuring cocoa, sugar, and flour into a mixing bowl. Mom held a measuring cup full of melted butter and watched Tyler with the kind of furrowed brows I reserved for difficult chem homework.
“Hi.” I stared at this bewildering trio, my focus landing on the odd man out. “What’s going on?”
He looked up, and I noticed a dusting of cocoa powder on his cheek. My entire chest felt warm and full to see him here. “I came over to see if you wanted to go for a walk. But...”
“You can’t have him,” Aunt Rachel said. “We’re desperate.”
“There’s so many more steps,” Mom said. “I thought day two would be the easy day?”
Tyler studied the recipe. “Day two can be the easy day. If you make the streusel and filling and syrup the day before,” Tyler said, then flinched under their combined glares. “Sorry.”
I smothered a smile. “I can help.”
“Grab the dough,” Tyler said. “I’ll make the simple syrup.” Hepoured sugar into a measuring cup of water and popped it into the microwave.
“Why don’t we let you kids finish this off!” Mom said brightly.
I glared at her. “No. You break it, you buy it.”
Mom gave a beleaguered sigh, but I noticed she was very excited to stir the butter into the flour mix to create a streusel topping for the cake.
I wanted to believe baking with my family meant Tyler was into me more seriously—who baked babka with their friend with benefits’s mom?—but honestly, Tyler really liked baking, so I couldn’t use that as evidence.
By the time we finished, we were all covered in dough and chocolate. Tyler and I retreated to the kitchen sink to scrub ourselves clean. He glanced over at me, shamefaced. “Sorry I came over with no warning. I thought I’d get a chance to check if you wanted to hang out before... hanging out for an hour.”
“Are you kidding? Now I get to have cake for breakfast. If you hadn’t appeared, they might have given up.” I dried my hands, then handed him the dishcloth. “You’re good with parents.”
“I’m good with everyone.”
I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. “Yeah, but you seem likeyouwith them. You’re relaxed.”
“Guess fifty-something women are my people.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised.”
The babka came out delicious. We didn’t even have to sendaround a middle to collect anyone; the family came tripping out of the woodwork like children lured by the Pied Piper. “This is very good,” Noah said, which might have been the first nice thing I’d ever heard my cousin say to Tyler.
Tyler looked down at his plate, his cheeks pink. “Thanks.”
I could have sat in the great room forever with my family and Tyler, but then my phone pinged. I looked at Tyler. “I told Olivia I’d meet up with her and her boyfriend—”
“Cool.” He started rising from his seat beside me on the couch. “I’ll head out—”
“No, I meant—Tyler.” I grabbed his arm. It felt good and secure, and I tugged on it because I could, and it made him look down at me, gaze serious. “Do you want to hang out with us?”
He blinked. And stared at me. “Okay.”
Something good fizzed in my belly.
In town the four of us wandered from shop to shop. Jackson was a quiet, serious guy who liked birds and snowboarding. It was easier to bring Tyler to hang out with him than with my cousins: he didn’t know the ins and outs of Tyler’s and my history, or at least didn’t care. The four of us were easy together, laid-back and playful, and I didn’t see Tyler put on a fake smile once.
At two, we squeezed into a table at Born & Bread for sandwiches. Jackson told us about his family’s Christmas drama,and Olivia gave us the update on her family’s New Year’s party. “There’s all these rules aboutThe Nutcracker,” she said. “You’re not supposed to have Clara and the Nutcracker dance a pas de deux, and you’re not supposed to have any dancing when the tree grows or the overture is played—you’re supposed to be concentrating on the music.”
“Not sure Tchaikovsky reckoned for twenty-first-century attention spans,” Jackson said.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m pretty sure we can handle five minutes of music before squirming.”
“Speak for yourself.”
