Page 102 of Sweet Madness

My heart swells with joy as they greet us so warmly.

“Thank you for opening your doors to us,” I reply truthfully. She looks at me for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to place where she might have seen me before.

I lower my head slightly, then kneel to be at the kids’ level, my smile bright and welcoming. “Hi, everyone! You’re all so sweet!” I glance around, taking in the faces of kids of all ages.

They all look so innocent and so endearing.

“We brought some special treats for you today,” I announce, my voice filled with the same excitement as the kids’.

I watch as Shaw nods at the woman who appears to be in charge of the shelter before placing the boxes of cupcakes on a nearby table, the sweet aroma immediately filling the room.

When he returns to my side, I turn to the kids, who are looking at the box filled with cupcakes with wide eyes. “Want to hear a secret?”

They all nod their little heads eagerly.

With a wide smile, I say, “There,” gesturing to the cupcakes with a flourish, “are happy cupcakes. They’re sprinkled with magic dust that will make you smile and feel all warm inside as soon as you take that first bite.”

“Really?” The little firefighter looks doubtful, as if he isn’t sure he can trust me. My heart aches for him, realizing that something bad must have happened for such a young kid to be skeptical about magical cupcakes and good intentions.

“Oh, definitely.” I whisper softly, handing him a cupcake adorned with edible glitter stars. “These were made with love, so they have the power to make you smile if you just believe. Do you believe you can be happy, firefighter?”

Giggles and excited murmurs fill the air as the children eagerly gather around me, their eyes sparkling with wonder. The little boy takes the first bite of the cupcake, and I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction. Moments later, his face breaks into a broad, toothy grin, and he gives me a thumbs-up, his cheeks smeared with chocolate and pink frosting.

Smiling back, I begin handing out the cupcakes and cake pops, giving each child two or more treats with care. Some hesitate just a moment before taking a tentative bite, their faces lighting up with pure joy as they savor the sugary goodness.

“See? Magic!” I exclaim animatedly, my eyes wide and my smile beaming as I look at them.

Meanwhile, my bodyguard quietly distributes balloons and a few other things we picked up on our way here. Coloring books, crayons, and small toys bring excited squeals and heartfelt “thank yous” from the children.

Their joyful faces are exactly why I choose to do this.

A cute little girl with black pigtails and a shy demeanor approaches us, holding her cupcake with both hands. “Are they really magical cupcakes?” she whispers, sounding doubtful.

I wink playfully and respond with a bright smile, “Absolutely. As soon as you take a bite, you’ll start feeling the magic, baby girl, and you’ll be extra happy.”

The girl nods eagerly, taking a big bite of her cupcake and giggling as she chews happily. The other children follow her lead, their faces glowing with joy and their eyes sparkling with excitement.

I then feel a gentle tug on my jean skirt and look down to find a little boy, around six or seven years old, standing there. “Hey sweetie. Would you like another cupcake?” I ask, offering him the last one from the box.

The boy reaches out his tiny hand, and I place the cupcake in it. He quickly stuffs it into his mouth, reminding me of myself when I was younger. “Miss Carly loves you,” the little boy mumbles with his mouth full.

Frowning, I ask, “What do you mean?”

“You’re on her phone,” the boy explains. “She loves seeing you on the phone and all the pretty pictures you take.”

It dawns on me that a little kid has recognized me. Worried that he might blow my cover, I crouch down to his level. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Noah,” he replies, tilting his head and looking at me suspiciously. “Why?”

“Noah is an epic name for a boy,” I say with a wink. “My favorite book hero is named Noah.”

“Is he a superhero?” Noah asks, his eyes bright with curiosity.

“To his girl, he certainly is,” I reply, not mentioning that my Noah is a super-hot fictional dude.

“Cool,” he says, giving me a thumbs-up.

I quickly change the topic, not wanting the little boy to out me to the grownups here. It works, and I don’t have to ask him to keep my identity a secret. I hand Noah two more cupcakes and a rocket toy, and he leaves with a squeal of delight and a beaming smile.

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