Page 47 of Accidentally Fudging the Beast
I round the corner, bracing myself.
The kitchen looks like a fudge factory detonated. There's flour on the cabinets, cocoa powder streaked across the fridge, and chocolate splatters on the ceiling. Bowls, measuring cups, and spatulas are everywhere. There's a haze of sugar in the air so thick I can taste it, and the oven is giving off a smell that's more arson investigation than holiday treat.
Dani stands in the middle of it, radiant and wild as always, wearing an apron that says "Kiss the Cook" over her baby bump. The once-white apron is now the color of brownie mix. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a bun that's already unraveling, and her face is streaked with chocolate.
Alisha, our four-year-old and the light of my goddamn life, stands on a stool in front of the counter, wielding a wooden spoon like a weapon of mass destruction. She's got Dani's blue eyes and my dark, disaster-prone hair.
"Daddy!" she yells, beaming at me with teeth that are already suspiciously coated with chocolate. She abandons her post to run at me, smearing cocoa across my calves as she flings herself at my legs. "We're making fudge for Santa's favorite girl!"
Dani turns, brandishing a mixing bowl that sloshes dangerously close to the edge. "Correction," she says. "We're making fudge for everyoneexceptSanta's favorite girl. She's already eaten two pounds of marshmallows and three candy canes."
"I was testing them," Alisha says, completely unrepentant.
"Uh-huh," Dani mutters, licking a glob of fudge off her thumb.
I snort, but instantly regret the choice. There's a burned sugar tang to the air that makes my immune system quiver in terror.
Danimust see the look on my face, because she wipes her hands on the apron and comes over, squinting up at me. "You okay? You look like you're about to faint."
"I'm not allergic to chocolate," I remind myself, one suspicious eye on the mixing bowl. "Just…having flashbacks."
She grins, all teeth. "Pretty sure this batch won't kill you. We didn't even buy honey." She winks at me, then plants a kiss on my cheek, right above the fudge smear she left behind.
"Want to help us, Daddy?" Alisha calls, already up to her elbows in the mixing bowl again. "You can do the stirring."
I hesitate, because the last time I helped, I broke three eggs directly onto the floor and nearly lost my wedding ring in the batter. But Dani's eyes are all warm and sparkly, and there's not a force in the universe strong enough to say no to either of them.
"Sure thing, baby girl." I grab a spatula, squeezing Dani's hip as I pass. "What's the plan?"
She shrugs. "I'm not sure. The recipe said to combine everything and 'bring to a rolling boil,' but Alisha interpreted that as 'throw everything into a bowl and spin in circles until dizzy.'"
"I did not," Alisha argues. "I only spun for, like, three minutes."
Dani rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.
I take over the stirring. The batter is thick and sticky, and I have to use both arms to keep it moving. After a fewminutes, I'm sweating, but Alisha is giggling again, and Dani is humming along to the Christmas playlist on the speaker. The kitchen is a war zone, but it's the happiest I've ever been.
"Hey, Sunshine?" I say, glancing over my shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"I think the fudge is starting to seize up."
Dani sets down her mixing bowl and sidles up next to me. "Oh, wow. That's…that's a lot of fudge."
"Want me to pour it?" I ask.
She shakes her head, then grabs the pan and starts lining it with parchment paper. I scrape the mixture into the pan, then help smooth it out with the spatula. It's a mess, but it looks vaguely edible.
Alisha is still working on decimating the marshmallow supply.
"Okay," Dani says, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "We need to let it set for at least an hour."
"An hour?" Alisha shrieks. "I'll die by then!"
Dani laughs and ruffles her hair. "You'll survive. Why don't you go watch The Grinch while Daddy and I clean up? And then we'll open presents."
Alisha sighs, but immediately abandons her post and heads for the living room, a marshmallow clenched in each fist.
