Page 25 of Mom Com

He sighs, looking briefly at the ocean. “Yeah, I know. I hate it.”

And for reasons I can’t fathom, I respond. “I do, too.”

I turn away from Wilder, resolving to just focus on the task at hand for the rest of the morning. And for the most part, besides a quick conversation here and there about who’s making what and the schedule going forward, we’re silent. I catch him looking in my direction every once in a while, like he’s trying to sort something out, but it only makes me focus harder on my work, letting the scents and motions guide me, and trying not to think too hard about where I am or whom I’m with.

CHAPTER10

Half-Baked Idea Cookie—

a comforting gooey center that I’ll probably regret later

The fireplace in my mom’s living room is freshly lit and I stare at the flames, tucking a throw blanket around my legs.

“You cool?” Spence asks, munching on one of the decorated Christmas cookies we made this afternoon and looking up from the game he’s playing on his laptop. “’Cause you’ve been holding that book for like twenty minutes without turning a page.”

I shift my gaze to him with a reassuring smile. “Just thinking.”

“About baking?”

“Something like that,” I say.

“About Grandpa’s bakery?” he continues, and I exhale.

“Actually, yeah,” I say, wondering if he overheard something or is just being his usual observant self.

He lowers the screen on his laptop. “It must have been weird to go there this morning... I mean without Grandpa there.” Only nine and yet he always seems to get to the core of things.

“It was,” I say slowly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve baked at that bakery. I used to do it all the time as a girl, and there were a lot of memories.”

“Good ones?”

“A whole variety, but yes, definitely good ones among them.”

Spence nods and when he doesn’t immediately go back to his game, I realize that even though I haven’t made up my mind about what to do, he’s sensing my discomfort and I owe him an explanation.

I close my book and put it on the coffee table next to my phone. “So, you know how your grandmother and I were talking the other day about your Grandpa’s—”

But I don’t get my sentence out before our phones ding simultaneously.

His face instantly brightens. “Dad!” he exclaims, and one glance at my screen tells me he’s right.

Jake: Up for some root beer floats?

“Can I?” Spence asks, his voice elevated with excitement.

“Definitely,” I confirm. It’s a relief that Jake’s taking the initiative and I don’t have to hunt him down and coerce him—it’s the one thing about this trip that’s actually easier than expected.

Spence rapid-fires a response to our group text telling Jake he’s getting ready, and then jumps up from the couch.

Jake: Maddi, you joining?

“What do you think?” I ask Spence, not opposed.

“Uh, yeah, I mean, you can come,” he says, but his tone tells me everything I need to know. He’s been waiting for this dude bonding time for weeks and I’m not going to intrude on it unless he really wants me there.

“You know what?” I say, “Would it be okay if I skipped this one? Maybe went on the next one?”

He looks a little too happy about it. “For sure!” And then he bounces out of the room to get ready.