Page 16 of Cabin Fever With My First Flame

Christmas music starts blaring from the living room, and a chorus of voices singing off-key hits my ears. Instead of cringing from the noise, I find myself smiling, tapping my foot, and bobbing my head. Micah glances at my feet and grins, waiting for me to admit the truth.

“All right, Micah. You win. What do you have in mind?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” he replies, waggling his eyebrows and rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Seriously, Finn, all you need to do is be yourself. Let us handle the rest.”

“It’s what ‘the rest’ entails that has me worried,” I mumble. “Micah, don’t you have somewhere to be? Aren’t you supposed to be making cookies or something?”

He gestures in the direction of the kitchen. “Ella and I agreed that the younger kids would have more fun making the dough. It’s not as if we can all fit into the kitchen without it turning into a full-blown circus act. Besides, once Isaac and Jonah were old enough to help Mom, I was promoted to being the ‘Quality Control Specialist’ and ‘Decorating Coordinator.’ It’s my assigned position in the hierarchy in the kingdom of cookie confections.”

I chuckle. “That used to be my role and my favorite part, but that’s also because your mom knew if she didn’t keep me out of the kitchen while she was baking, the chocolate chips and other ingredients would disappear before they ever got mixed into the dough.”

I finish cleaning up the last of the dishes on the table and follow Micah toward the kitchen. I nearly drop the plates in my hand as I double over in laughter at the sight before me. Bailey knows my penchant for tidiness and has taken precautionary measures to mitigate the potential mess.

Isaac, Jonah, Mia, and Ava are all wearing black garbage bags with holes cut out for their heads and arms. The bottom of the bags are folded up and duct-taped on the sides to create makeshift pockets to catch ingredients instead of those ingredients ending up on the floor.

I sidle up next to Bailey, who is currently mixing a batch of gingerbread dough by hand. “I’ll admit, Bailey, that was an ingenious idea to use trash bags as aprons. I don’t know if I would have thought to do that.”

She doesn’t look at me, but the corner of her mouth lifts. “You wouldn’t have had to. I saw the packages of premade cookiesyou have in the freezer downstairs. No mess. No fuss. How veryFinn-like,” she teases.

“They taste the same,” I say, knowing full well that I’m putting my life in jeopardy with that comment.

The look of horror that crosses Bailey’s face is priceless. She stops mixing and turns to face me. “That’s blasphemous! You take that back!” she exclaims, waving the mixing spoon around in the air. “Store-bought isneverbetter than homemade!”

“If Finn is cooking, it is,” Isaac says in all seriousness. “That’s why almost everything he makes comes from a can, bag, or box.”

Jonah nods solemnly. “If Finn tried to make something from scratch, we’d all starve.”

Bailey whips her utensil in my direction and accidentally flings a piece of dough that hits me squarely between the eyes. I’m stunned by the impact, but Bailey doesn’t register what happened as she continues her rant. “As long as I’m here, the use of pre-packaged food will be used as a last resort.”

Ella cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, “Shots fired! Take cover!”

“What? Why?” Bailey asks, not understanding the nature of Ella’s warning. Bailey finally registers what happened when she notices me wiping goop from my face. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry, Finn.”

“You will be,” I say in a menacing voice, but also with the corners of my mouth turned upward. I stalk toward her, and she takes a few hesitant steps backward. When I close the distance, she whispers, “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I dare,” I tease, snatching the cookie dough-coated spoon from her grasp and running it down the side of her face. “Now, we’re a matching pair,” I whisper back. Our gazes lock, and I use the pad of my thumb to caress her cheek, neither one of us caring that I’m smearing gingerbread all over her face.

Ignoring the world around us, she casts her eyes downward and mumbles, “You’re making a mess of things, Finn.”

“I’ll clean it up, Bailey. If you’ll allow it, I’ll make things right.”

She shakes her head and takes one more step back, causing my hand to fall by my side. Before she can get her next words out, the moment is broken by Jonah shouting, “Food fight!”

We both spin on our heels and raise our hands, shouting in unison, “NO!”

Bailey takes it one step further, “If one crumb leaves your hand, Jonah, you’ll be the one who has to clean the kitchen.” She makes eye contact with every single person in the room, including me. “That goes for all of you!”

Ella leans down and whispers something in Jonah’s ear, causing him to giggle and grin. Jonah walks over to Bailey and wraps his arms around her waist. Looking up at her, he says, “I’m sorry, Bailey. Food isn’t meant for fighting. It’s meant to show our love. We’re going to make a lot of love.”

Bailey fights back a laugh and hugs Jonah back. “Yes, we’re going toshowour love through baking. Why don’t we get back to it?”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask. I don’t want to be useless, but I also don’t want to take away any joy from the kids.

Bailey points to the refrigerator. “The middle shelf still needs to be fixed, and if you have a mixer stand handy, that will save us a ton of time.”

“The shelf I can do, but you’re out of luck with a mixer stand. I’ve never had a need for one.” I open up the refrigerator and begin removing the items so that I can reattach the shelf. I flex my biceps for her and grin. “I can help stir if your arms get tired.”

Bailey wraps the bowl with plastic wrap and heads toward the front door. I ask her where she’s going, and she points toward the bowl. “There isn’t enough room to chill this in therefrigerator, and we have several more batches to make. Setting it outside for an hour or two should work like a charm.”

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