Page 23 of When Alec Met Evie
I grimace. “Sorry,” I say over the music.
She smiles and shakes her head as she retrieves her phone from the counter and turns off the music.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine. I was just…” She looks down at Juno who is awake and wide-eyed. “She likes the music. Plus, I get some exercise, so it’s a win-win.” She looks over at the stove. “Are you hungry? I cooked. And by cooked, I mean I warmed up a pizza and there’s some left over. But I did make these!” She pulls a kitchen towel off the top of a baking dish full of cinnamon rolls. “It’s actually your mom’s recipe,” she says. “She gave it to me as a baby gift when Juno was born.”
Evie is buzzing with energy, her cheeks pink from exertion, her eyes bright. With Juno in her arms, she looks likelife.Like happiness.
I lift my eyebrows. “Mom guards that recipe with her life. She hasn’t even given it tomeyet.”
“It took years of wearing her down,” Evie says. “And maybe a tiny bit of guilt-tripping after the divorce? I’m still not sure I’ve perfected her process, but this is the best batch I’ve made so far.” She cuts a corner off one of the rolls and pops it into her mouth, closing her eyes as she chews. She lets out a little groan, then licks a dollop of icing from her finger.
I watch, transfixed, as her tongue slides over the ridge of her knuckle.
“Dark brown sugar,” she says. “That’s what makes them taste like caramel.”
I clear my throat and force my eyes to the ceiling. I have got to stop staring at this woman’s mouth, but she isn’t making it easy.
“Theydotaste like caramel,” I say. “I remember.”
She cuts off a second corner from the same cinnamon roll and walks it over to me. “Spoil your dinner with me?” She holds the cinnamon roll just in front of my mouth.
She could be offering me a chocolate-covered cricket and I’d probably still say yes.
I lean forward and take the bite, my lips brushing over her fingertips.
The contact is brief, but it’s enough to send an unexpected reaction sparking across my skin.
Fortunately, the cinnamon roll provides at least a temporary distraction. It tastes like my childhood, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me as I chew. I can’t count the number of times we crowded into the kitchen waiting for Mom to pull these out of the oven. She’d barely get them frosted before we were begging to have one.
As often as she wasn’t, Evie was beside Megan, begging right along with us, but it’s still a surprise that Mom shared the recipe with Evie. She always talks about how it's her mother’s recipe, and it will, as far as she’s concerned, always stay in the family.
It’s agoodsurprise though. Somehow, it seems right that Evie has it. Though that could just be because she’s in my kitchen, and I’m the one benefiting from her knowledge.
“Tastes pretty perfect to me,” I say, and Evie beams.
“Really? I didn’t bake them too long?”
I shake my head and move closer to the pan, where I cut myself another bite. “They taste just like Mom’s.”
She looks down at Juno. “Did you hear that, Juno? They taste just like Mama Sheridan’s. She’ll be so proud of us!”
Something catches in my heart as I think about Mom encouraging Evie and loving on Juno, and an ache of homesickness makes my gut tighten. It’s been less than a month since I saw my parents, but we were so busy getting them moved out of their house and into their retirement community, it didn’t really feel like we got to spend much time together. It was all about logistics, time management, making sure they were fully settled before Megan’s last semester of nursing clinicals started. We definitely didn’t have time for cinnamon rolls.
“So how was your day?” Evie asks. “What did you do?”
“It was press and social media day at the Summit,” I say.
“What does that mean? Photos? Interviews?”
I nod. “And an ambush involving a lasso and a pair of eighteen-year-old twins from Texas.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “Do I want to know the details?”
“Just make sure you’re following the Appies on social media. I’m sure you’llseethe details eventually.”
She grins. “You guys really do a lot of funny stuff.”
