She looked at me, surprised, “Four?” she asked, and I nodded.
“Yeah,” I exhaled, leaning against the counter, heartbeat finally slowing. “Four. You’re lucky nineteen is a big deal, Campbell. Other numbers wouldn’t get this.”
She blinked at that, cheeks tinting faintly pink.
Honey sneezed.
The kitchen still looked like a goddamn snowstorm of sugar and failure. But the cake was perfect.
I turned the cake over onto a cooling rack and carefully lifted the baking pan. It came out clean. Smooth. Whole.
Thank fuck.
Without thinking, I carried it straight to the sink to cool the bottom, the steam hitting my face as I twisted the tap slightly. The sound of running water filled the silence.
Aurora stood beside the counter, her good hand tucked close, eyes curious. I glanced at her, then at the little tub of icing I’d panic-bought at the store this morning and grabbed a spoon.
“Here,” I said, setting them down in front of her. “Make it pretty, birthday girl.”
Her eyebrows rose a little.
“I make a mess,” I shrugged. “You might as well make it a prettier mess.”
Something flickered behind her eyes: surprise, maybe. Then, slowly, she reached for the spoon. She dipped it into the icing, hesitant at first, before dragging it across the top of the cake in uneven strokes.
Messy.
Crooked.
So damn adorable.
I turned away, pretending to focus on cleaning, but my eyes kept finding her.
Her small hand worked carefully, spreading the icing as if it were the most important job in the world. Her lips pressed together in concentration, her lashes lowered, Honey sitting nearby on the counter, watching like a tiny orange supervisor.
Flour still lingered in the air. My hands were sticky, my clothes ruined, my kitchen a mess. But the sight in front of me, her smiling quietly to herself as she smeared a little too much icing on one side and laughed under her breath, made it all worth it.
She glanced up suddenly, catching me watching. I froze, half mid-wipe with a damp towel.
She pointed at the cake, slapping the spoon gently against the icing. Her way of saying:am I doing okay?
I shook my head, looking away, because the way she smiled after that, soft, bright, real… it did something to me.
Something I couldn’t name.
Something I didn’t want to lose. Ever.
Chapter Forty-Three
Joshua / Aurora
Joshua
When I turned around, towel in hand, the kitchen was finally clean enough to breathe in again. I turned around and paused at the sight before me.
Aurora, sitting cross-legged on the stool, spoon in her good hand, scooping icing and cake straight from the side like she owned the thing.
She looked up mid-bite, cheeks puffed, eyes wide, as if she’d been caught stealing.
