Page 38 of Embers in Autumn
“Seriously, Dad. Tuna pasta bake. With the fresh stuff.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Fresh tuna. Pasta bake. You win.”
“I always do.” She smirked, then hopped down from the truck, darting toward a cluster of her friends. I watched her go, shaking my head with a smile I couldn’t quite hold back. She was right, of course. She usually was.
After dropping Lana at school, I pulled out of the lot and headed across town. The minute I parked outside the store for groceries, I pulled out my phone.
Dean:Good morning. Quick question—does tuna pasta bake work for dinner?
It took a minute, then my screen lit up.
Amber:Are you asking if Ilikeit or if Iknowhow to make it?
I barked a laugh right there in the driver’s seat, shaking my head.
Dean:No, no. I’ll make it. Just wanted to check before I bought everything.
Her reply came fast.
Amber:I do :)
That tiny smiley face went straight through me. Ridiculous that a little symbol could make me feel lighter than the sun on my shoulders.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket, pushed a cart down the aisles, and got everything I needed. Fresh tuna, pasta, cream, cheese. The good stuff. I wasn’t about to serve Amber something half-assed.
Back home, I set the bags on the counter and looked around the house. The walls, the floor, the damn curtains. All of it suddenly looked like it needed work. Before I could think twice, I rolled up my sleeves and went at it. Vacuuming every corner. Wiping down shelves I hadn’t looked at in months. Even swapping out the living room curtains for the spare set in the closet.
By the time I was done, the place smelled faintly of lemon polish and laundry detergent. If anyone had walked in on me in that moment, they would have sworn Christmas was coming. Or maybe a surprise inspection from the fire chief.
The truth was simpler. I just wanted Amber to walk in my house and feel welcome. Feel at home.
When the afternoon rolled around, I picked Lana up from school. She climbed into the truck, chattering about a quiz and a group project, then gave me a look as I pulled into the lot by the flower shop.
“Flowers?” she asked.
“Flowers,” I confirmed.
Inside, the air smelled of fresh soil and roses. My sister’s shop always had a warmth to it, sunlight spilling across neat rows of arrangements. Lana helped me pick out a bouquet—something autumnal, warm yellows and deep oranges with a hint of red.
“You should get her a Labubu doll too,” Lana said suddenly, eyeing a stuffed display near the counter.
I froze. “A what now?”
She grinned like she’d caught me off guard. “Labubu. They’re collectible little monster dolls. Everyone online is crazy about them.”
“I’m buying flowers, kid, not a haunted gremlin.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “See, this is why you need me. You don’t know the important things.”
“Pretty sure flowers count as important,” I said, paying for the bouquet. “And I think Amber will appreciate something that doesn’t look like it crawled out of a nightmare.”
“You’d be surprised,” Lana muttered, smirking. “Then, can I have one?”
“No, they make my skin crawl.”
I shook my head as we walked back to the truck, bouquet in hand, the weight of tonight settling in deeper. Flowers, pasta, a house that didn’t look like a fire station locker room—God, I hoped it would be enough.
CHAPTER 11
