Page 116 of When We Were Young

I’m speechless for a few seconds. “Wow. I can’t believe you guys did that. That’s very thoughtful.”

“Seems like they were all gonna come anyway,” Simon says nonchalantly. “Lots of the people said they were already planning on it, but they thanked us for the pictures.”

“Pictures?”

“Yeah. Layla and I thought it would be better if we drew donuts, and cookies, and stuff on them. I think that’s what worked best.”

My heart melts. “I bet. Thank you so much. That was very thoughtful of you and Layla.” My voice is a little raspy with emotion.

Wow, even if I don’t get another single customer, this day is perfect knowing these sweet kids did that, and Ruthie and Lester took them around to deliver the signs. That is one of the sweetest things anybody has ever done for me.

Except for Holden. He’s been doing sweet things for me for so long now that maybe I should stop questioning it and simply let myself enjoy being cared for.

The first alarm on my phone goes off, rescuing me from my awkward inner thoughts.

“Be right back.”

I head to the kitchen and check the cinnamon rolls. They look perfect, so I pull them out of the oven and place them on a serving platter. Then I grab three plates and three forks and head back to the booth where my boys are.

“Are those—” Holden starts.

“Mom, those smell so good,” Simon finishes.

“Are those what?” I ask, eager to hear his answer.

“Are those my mom’s cinnamon rolls?”

“Well, sort of. They’re her recipe, and she taught me how to make them, but I made them myself from scratch.” I grin, knowing I’ve shocked him. “You’ll have to taste them and tell me if they match up.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Simon says. “Can I serve my own, Mom?”

“Sure. Go ahead, bud. If you need help, just let me know.”

He’s a little clumsy, but Simon puts a cinnamon roll on a plate. Instead of placing it in front of himself, he slides it over to me.

“Ladies first,” he says. “Holden taught me that.”

“Oh, how polite.” I glance up at Holden, and he’s watching my boy with a smile on his face. Now my heart joins my lower belly and does that flutter.

Jesus, the flutters this man gives me. I need to get control of myself.

Simon serves Holden a cinnamon roll as well and then takes the last one for himself.

I’m about to put the first bite in my mouth when Holden groans, and a muffled, “Oh my God, this is so good,” comes from his cinnamon-roll-filled mouth.

“Are you sure? Is it as good as your mom’s?” I ask.

“I swear it might even be better, but I’ll lie through my teeth if you tell her I said that.”

I giggle. “I highly doubt it’s better than your mom’s, but thank you.”

“I think they taste the same, Mom. Good job.”

“Thanks. I wanted to do taste-testing with you guys before I added them to the menu.”

“You totally should. My mom’s stingy about when she’ll make these for us,” Holden says. “Says they’re a lot of work.”

“They are a lot of work,” I say, amusement in my tone, “but I highly doubt your mom is stingy with anything. She seems like the perfect mother.”