“Not to give up on her.”
“And how exactly do I go about doing that?”
“I’m twelve,” she says. “I don’t know. Tell her she’s pretty. Send her flowers. Do whatever guys do to woo girls.”
“Woo?” I say with a raised brow.
“Whatevs. You’re the one for her, so you should try really hard to be her boyfriend.”
“You only think that because I stopped to talk to you.”
“Or maybe you stopped to talk to me because you’re the one.”
This twelve-year-old is messing with my head. “Evie, it was really nice talking with you. I hope to see you again sometime.” I stand.
“Me too. And Leo. That kid is gorgeous,” she says.
“He is. All the ladies like him.”
“All?” Evie asks, looking worried.
“From afar,” I add. “They like him from afar.”
“Okay. Good. Because I don’t think you should date anyone else.”
“If you ask your mom, I’m not even datingher.”
“Like I said, she doesn’t know what she wants.”
I open the door, but before I can make my escape, I see movement at the top of the stairs. My heart sinks, thinking Emma has caught me talking with her daughter. Surely there will be repercussions. But when I look closely, it’s not Emma but an older version of her.
The woman smiles at me and nods.
I give her a wave. Then I wink at Evie and walk through the door.
Chapter Twenty
Emma
I bake when I’m happy. I bake when I’m sad. I bake when I’m stressed out.
I’m trying to figure out which of those I am at the moment.
I look in the pantry.Damn. I’m out of flour.
“Ready?” Evelyn asks from behind me.
I pick up the lunch I packed for her. “Yup. Just give me a second to write down my grocery list, so I can make a stop on the way back.”
She sees the mixing bowls and measuring spoons on the counter. “What are you baking today?”
“I thought I’d make your favorite.”
“Peanut butter chocolate chip cookies?” she asks with a smile. “Will you save me some batter?”
“You know I don’t like you eating the batter.”
“I’m twelve years old, Mom. I’ve been sneaking batter for how many years, and I’ve never gotten sick?”