Leo nods enthusiastically. “And he can cook, too. He makes the best lasagna ever,” he informs me. “What about you, Lin? Can you cook?”
“No. We can’t all be good at everything like your dad,” I mutter. “He might as well be a superhero.”
Over at the counter, I notice Matteo’s lips twitch.
“He could be Spiderman!” Leo says excitedly.
“Alright, buddy. Less talking, more baking. How about you go get me some stirring spoons and then we’ll start?” Matteo suggests.
“Lindsay can help too,” Leo states.
Dread crawls up my spine. Helping them bake means spending time with Matteo. He definitely doesn’t want that. It’ll be awkward, and I hate awkwardness.
“Actually, Leo, I was going to head back to my room,” I tell him.
“But you just came from your room,” the little boy says, confused. “You should hang out with me and Dad.”
That sounds like a bad idea. But he looks so earnest and it’s really hard to say no to him.
“Okay, fine. I’ll help,” I concede, glancing at Matteo.
There’s not really much of an expression on his face. He’s watching us calmly, arms crossed over his chest.
Leo grins. “Yes! You can help Daddy fetch the ingredients from in there,” he says, pointing at the door leading into the pantry.
I nod, offering him a shaky smile. I make my way through the door and into the expansive room that houses some of the dry ingredients. I grab some flour, sugar. I’m not exactly sure what will be necessary, but I pick the basics.
There’s a jar labeled “cocoa powder” on one of the shelves but it’s too high for me to reach.
I try anyway, rising on my toes when I feel a presence behind me. I suck in a sharp breath as Matteo cages me in. Every inch of me burns and I try to slow my breathing, focused on not inhaling his intoxicating scent. He grabs the cocoa powder and takes a step back, allowing me to turn around and face him.
When he speaks, his voice washes over me and I’m surprised by how much I missed it.
“You’re going to great lengths to avoid me in my own home, Lindsay. I’m impressed.”
“I’m just trying to give you space,” I say on a shrug.
“Sure,” he says shortly.
He grabs the ingredients in my hand and heads back to the kitchen. I follow, stopping at the counter a few feet away from him and making sure there’s just enough distance between us.
“What do I do?” I question.
Leo points at the ingredients his father is pouring into the bowl. “You can mix,” he suggests once Matteo cracks two eggs in.
Alright then. I reach for the spoon and Matteo slides the bowl over to me. I can feel his eyes on me but I keep my gaze across the counter at Leo as I stir.
It turns out to not be as awkward as I expected. Leo talks our ears off as we work. Once I’m done mixing, Matteo collects the bowl from me and I feel a spark of electricity when my fingers graze his.
“Thanks,” he murmurs.
Soon enough, we’re done preparing the batter, and Leo does the honor of sliding the pan into the oven. I’m about to whirl around and escape but Matteo’s voice stops me.
“Where are you going, Lindsay? You haven’t had breakfast yet.”
I blink slowly as he gestures for me to take a seat beside Leo on the stool.
“Sit down. I’ll make you some eggs and toast.”
