Page 84 of From Maybe to Baby

It's an ordinary Sunday morning.I'm midway through wrestling with syrup-laden French toast, something I definitely should not be eating, when Lukas, with all the casualness of a seasoned conspirator, drops a bomb. "Will you be at my school party?" he asks, looking up at me with expectant eyes. "The other moms bake cupcakes but if you don’t have time, maybe we could buy some."

My fork pauses in midair, syrup dripping onto my sleeve. Across the table, Jonas pretends to be engrossed in Jace's fruit crown assembly, but his side-eye tells me he's waiting for a reaction. He's been too observant lately, watching like he expects me to bolt or melt down—or maybe both.

"The party's next month," Lukas barrels on, oblivious to my internal screaming. "Daddy said you'll probably still be around, doing your ’search."

Research. Right. Because that's what I'm here for. Not to play pseudo-mom or craft cookies that look suspiciously like zoo animals. Definitely not to have my phone’s calendar marked with purple notations labeled "kids’ activities."

"I don't know if—" I try, searching for an exit, any exit, but Jonas cuts in with that infuriating casual tone he’s perfected.

"Speaking of plans," he interjects, reaching past me for the coffee pot in a move that’s way too domestic for comfort, "we should talk about the Christmas tree situation."

"Christmas tree situation?" I echo, my voice laced with disbelief. I want to glance at the door, just to make sure that if I feel the need to run, there’s nothing that can stop my escape. But I don’t because Jonas is watching me.

"We thought we'd pick one out as a family this year,” he continues. “You know, make it an event. There’s hot chocolate, horses for the kids to ride?—"

"Horses!" Jace chimes in, scattering her carefully arranged fruit. "And ornaments! And we can decorate your office!"

"Lots of light," Lukas adds. "They have to be nice though, because Lexa has good taste. Gamma said so."

Great. Just great.

My phone buzzes with a reminder from the real world—or as I like to call it, Paris. Ryan’s text flashes:

Paris office needs an answer by Friday

It's Monday

Tick tock

I make a list of all the stupid things I’ve done recently to break my own rules:

Never stay more than three days. Ha.

No emotional attachments. Oops.

Avoid domestic situations like the plague.

Keep relationships casual. Well, that ship sailed.

Maintain professional distance. What distance?

Never date parents. Double check on never dating single parents.

Definitely don't get attached to their kids. Triple check.

Don't memorize how everyone likes their sandwiches.

Never learn too much about elementary school rules.

Absolutely do not fall in...

"Lexa?" Lukas’s voice snaps me back to the present, syrup flying off his spoon as he waves it enthusiastically. "So, you'll make those cookies, right? The hockey ones? And maybe some princess ones for Jace because she gets sad when it's all about sports."

When did I become the go-to cookie chef for thematic school parties? When did my life start to revolve around the snack preferences of a four-year-old?

"We could also start planning for New Year's," Jonas adds, still using that casual tone that’s anything but. "There’s the team tradition?—"

"Fancy party," Jace interrupts, knocking another piece of fruit to the floor. "With princess dresses!"

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