“Oh! Before I forget,” Bree exclaims, digging into her oversized tote. “I brought you something.”
She pulls out a package wrapped in colorful tissue paper. I take it from her hands, feeling the weight of something solid inside.
“What’s this for?” I ask, already tearing into the wrapping.
“Just a little congratulations for putting this whole thing together. I know how hard you’ve been working.”
The tissue paper falls away to reveal a ceramic mug. I turn it over in my hands and burst out laughing when I see the front. It’s adorned with a cartoon sheep wearing oversized glasses, and underneath in swoopy lettering,I’m just here for the BAAA-rista.
“For your collection,” Bree says, grinning. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.”
“It’s perfect.” I have dozens of mugs lining the shelves in my flat. Some quirky, some elegant, all with memories attached. “I’ll give it a place of honor.”
Juliette steps over to give me a quick squeeze. “Put us to work. What do you need help with?”
Callan hands Maisie off to Knox and claps his hands once, all business. “Right. Where do you want your chaos squad? Point us toward a job before the children unionize.”
“Well…the hot chocolate table needs some finishing touches. And someone needs to greet families when they get here.”
“Done,” Bree says, already moving. She nudges Callan with her shoulder. “Come on, chaos commander.”
“And what about these wee monsters?” Knox asks, jiggling both twins in his arms, making them squeal with delight. “They’ve been talking about decorating cookies all day.”
I can’t help but laugh. “They’ve been talking, have they? At ten months old?”
“Well,” Juliette corrects with a smile, “it was more like excited babbling whenever we mentioned coming to see Auntie Lou.”
“Well, then,” I say, setting the mug down on the counter before reaching for Keira who’s already stretching her arms toward me, “I think these two deserve the VIP treatment. Let’s get some cookies before everyone else gets here.”
“You sure?” Juliette asks.
“They’re MacKenzies,” I say with a wink. “And my nieces. Special privileges apply.”
I lead them over to the cookie decorating station, where I’ve already prepared a separate little area with two high chairs.
The twins get settled and in no time at all they both have frosting on their hands, their shirts, their cheeks. It’s everywhere. They’re perfect.
I’m wiping Maisie’s fingers when she decides she’d rather be held, so I scoop her up in one arm, her sticky hand patting my shoulder and leaving a little smear of pink behind. I don’t even care.
A small stampede of footsteps pounds up to the door, and then the bell chimes as I look over and spot the first cluster of families.
Within minutes, the café is buzzing with the sound of excited little voices. Families trickle in, bundled in coats, shaking off the winter chill as they make their way to the cookie table. Kids dash for the brightly colored icing and sprinkles, hands already coated in sugar before they’ve even started. Parents linger near the hot chocolate station, chatting and sipping coffee as they keep an eye on their little decorators.
Just as the first batch of cookies begins to take shape, the door chimes again. I glance up, my heart skipping a beat as a familiar figure steps inside—this time with a little girl clutching his hand.
She can’t be more than four or five, her wide eyes drinking in the festive setup, cheeks flushed from the cold. Her tiny fingers tighten around his as she takes in the world one cautious step at a time.
But it’s not her presence that throws me.
It’s all him. Again.
He seems…less intimidating now, like the gruffness I’d first noticed wasn’t the whole picture. His hard expression eases as he kneels to whisper something to the girl, and she nods, her lips twitching into the smallest smile.
I swallow, trying to process the sudden, unexpected pull low in my stomach.
The hat he wore yesterday hid what I now see is dark hair, almost black, tousled in that effortlessly messy way that makes it look like he just rolled out of bed. A few strands fall across his forehead as he speaks to the little girl, his posture relaxed yet protective.
His presence seems to take up space without trying, and he moves with confidence while staying acutely aware of everything around him. Like he’s always watching, always reading the room.
