Page 120 of Again, In Autumn

I spin around, speechless and confused.

Adam takes a white apron from a hook. “Mackenzie owed me one,” he says. “So, he’s giving us the pastry kitchen for the night.”

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

He places the apron neck over my head. “You have as long as you want.” He comes to stand behind me, taking the ties to my back, bending down and speaking into my ear, “In this pastry kitchen.” His arms hug my waist, tying the straps in front of my body, adding into my other ear, “To do the thing that brings you joy.”

I lean back into his chest, looking at the stand mixer and metal bowls and pots hanging from the ceiling. My hand absently rests on his. “Really?”

He slightly pulls me closer. “Really.”

I twist my head, finding my nose a centimeter from us. “Thank you.” I smile.

He smiles back. Releasing me, Adam steps back and asks, “What will you bake?”

I cup my warm, astounded face. I think it over: “Well…I’m at the opening of a new business. I don’t like to just bake for myself, I want to share it with people. And these people all just ate dessert. They’re going to sit by the fire and listen to a musician sing to them.”

“I’m aware, yes.” Adam crosses his arms, sniffles, listening. “And I’m going to sing at them.”

“I know what to make.” I assess his comfortable stance. “Are you going anywhere soon?”

“Not without you.”

His eyes sparkle when I request that he get out the supplies I need to make sugar cookies. I mix the wet ingredients in the stand mixer.

“Cornstarch makes the edges crispy,” I explain while Adam adds the flour mixture. “You don’t want to mix it too much.”

As I spread powdered sugar on the counter, he asks, “How come you don’t need a recipe to make these?”

“It’s the basic sugar cookie base.”

“I need a recipe to make scrambled eggs.”

When the dough is done, he hands me the ball of it, and I hand him the rolling pin. “I need to get the icing ready.”

“This is a lot of pressure.” He looks at his clothes. “I’m not wearing an apron.”

I bend down and find one folded on the shelf under the island. Getting up on my toes, I hang it over his neck and reach the string around his waist. My chin raises to him as my fingers tie the strings around his back. “Now you are.”

Adam smirks. “How mad would you be if I wiped some sugar on your face.”

“Don’t.” I jump back. “You already had your food fight fun. I’m serious.”

“I’m not going to!” He laughs.

As I stir food coloring into bowls of icing, Adam rolls the dough into a rectangle. He follows my instructions, stamping round cookie cutters and rolling the dough back together so there’s nothing left by the end but a tiny scrap. He puts the cutouts on two cookie sheets.

“The oven should be done preheating any second.” I twist the end of my red piping bag full of icing. Just then, the oven beeps.

“The things your mind can do,” he says, putting the cookies in the oven. “Time an oven, remember a recipe. Read palms. How long?”

I throw him look and seven fingers. “You know, the palmistry thing isn’t an exact science. I wouldn’t read into it too much.”

He leans into the counter beside me. “So, I’m not going to have one great love?”

I glance sideways. “I guess that’s up to you.” I remember something I wanted to say. “Hey – thanks for taking Grayson to the bathroom earlier.”

Adam runs his eyes over my regretful face and says, “You can’t let her take advantage of you, Vee.”

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