Mainly, though, I’m relieved that the pain from yesterday is nowhere to be found in her bright eyes.
Molly tosses everything into the machine. She’s generous with butter, sugar and chocolate chips. A streak of flour cuts across one pink cheek like a sliver of cloud. In a simple shirt and shorts with her feet bare and her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, she looks adorable as she moves around with ease and confidence.
I’d give up everything if I could have her happy and at home with me like this forever.
I preheat the oven to her specifications, then bring out baking sheets and grease them for her. She puts dollops of dough on them until there’s barely any left in the bowl, then puts them in the oven and sets the timer on her phone. She offers the wooden spoon with some dough on it. “Want some?”
I eye the mixture skeptically. “Is it safe to eat raw dough?”
“Of course.”
“Wouldn’t it be better cooked?”
“Think of it like cookie sushi.”
“Oh,thatsounds authentic.”
“Don’t be scared.” She scoops a bit with one finger and puts it in her mouth. “See? Yummy.”
There’s a bit of dough on the center of her mouth. Before she can wipe it off, I dip my head, kissing her and licking the dough off. Her breath catches and she stills, her body taut. She tastes amazing, all beautiful fantasy and a sweetness that is uniquely Molly. Heat rises until I feel like I’m one of the cookies in the oven.
Part of me wants to be greedy and push her, but the tension vibrating through her makes me pull back. I smile.
She flushes, pulls her lips in.
“You’re right. It’s delicious.” I wink.
She giggles. “You didn’t really get a taste of the dough.” She raises the spoon.
“I got something better.”
Her cheeks grow rosier. Shyness and pleasure war on her face, but she isn’t retreating. My affection for her swells over her ability to shake off the sadness from last night and enjoy what life has to offer.
Her phone vibrates on the counter.
“Is that the timer?” I ask.
“No. It’s an alert from some of my friends on Instagram.” She taps the screen. A wistful sigh escapes her parted lips. “Look at these photos! Everyone’s having such a great time in Las Vegas.”
Vegas.“Yeah?”
She leans against the counter. “Yeah… There’s a book signing. A bunch of my favorite authors are there.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Didn’t have the money.” She frowns. “It’s sad because some of my favorite authors are coming, and it would’ve been amazing to stop by to meet them and tell them how much I love their work. I’m sure they hear that from hundreds of readers all the time, but I want to tell them myself. And the photos would’ve been great for my Bookstagram features.” She sighs again. “It would’ve been incredible to get autographed books, too. A couple of my favorites said they’ll have special editions of their latest releases in Vegas.”
“I see what you mean. Sorry you couldn’t go.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m having fun here with you instead.” She smiles, standing next to the sunflowers I bought. Her expression is sunnier than the bright yellow blooms, and I can’t tear my gaze from her.
It’s disappointing that the trip to Vegas didn’t work out, because we would’ve had fun there, too. But I appreciate her trying to look at things from a half-full perspective. Life might throw some nasty punches, and she might cry when they connect, but she’s not the type to stay down.
My girl is a fighter.
The smell of fresh cookies starts to fill the kitchen. My place begins to feel like a home and hearth rather than a really expensive piece of real estate. I’ve never experienced hominess in all the years I’ve lived here, not even when my brothers are over for one of our brunches.
The alarm on her phone goes off, and Molly puts on a mitten and takes the cookies out. I reach for one.
