“Sugar cookies are easy. I promise.”
She snorts and walks inside. She grabs an apron, ties it too tightly, and has to re-tie it.
The hostesses catch my eye from across the room. The sisters both wear matching, smug little smiles, as if they orchestrated this whole thing and won. Which, they did.
They deliberately sent her into my room, knowing damn well I was in there. But I can’t complain. I’d never complain.
I’d almost go as far as calling it fate, which is not a word I ever use.
The cookies aren’t easy. Not to her. The dough doesn’t roll out right or bake properly.
Every instinct in me wants to step behind her, guide her hands, show her slow—hands over hands.
I don’t.
Besides, the other ladies are quick to jump in and help her. They’re not the teasing, eye-wagging chaos they pretend to be. These are my core lady fans—the ones who have been through everything with me.
Flour dusts the air. Butter and sugar melt sweetly. Someone laughs. Someone swears at a timer. The whole kitchen hums.
Shay watches them for a moment, then, instead of fighting the dough, wipes her hands on a towel and reaches for her camera, hanging the worn strap around her neck.
Click.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye, crouch low, snapping the rolling pin mid-roll, flour puffing into the light.
Click. Click.
Jaclyn’s hands knead dough with red nails and gold rings. Butter smears across her knuckles.
Shay documents it all, then she turns it on me, sneaking shots.
I pretend not to notice.
I absolutely notice.
She squints one eye and bites her bottom lip as she lines up a shot—the tiny mechanical shutter sounds.
I fight a smile as I slide a tray into the oven.
Click.
Heat blasts my face when I open the door. Warm vanilla, toasted sugar, and butter wrap around me.
Click.
“You documenting me?”
She grins behind the lens. “Chronologically.”
The last tray comes out. People linger, trading cookies, sipping wine, laughter bubbling up in the soft light.
Shay fits in like she’s been with us all along.
That thought hits me square in the chest.
The fact that I like it?
Hits harder.
