Page 76 of The Do-Over

“Oh, hey, wait.” He jogged back to me. “Do you have any baking soda? Did you know there’s baking powder and then there’s baking soda? I thought they were both the same thing.” He shrugged. “Who knew?”

Me. I knew that. I bit back a smile at his confusion. For once, it was nice to see he was the uncertain one. “Are you making something, or just stocking your pantry?”

“I went to this family night at Lilah’s school, and the next thing I knew one of those PTA moms was talking real fast and asking if she could sign me up to help with the bake sale. Thought I’d be setting up tables or something.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But it turns out I’m supposed to make three dozen cupcakes for tomorrow.”

“I could help you. I mean, I’m sure I have all the ingredients.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Are you serious? I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

After checking on Lilah, he brought over the business end of a baby monitor so he could hear her if she woke. He handed over his phone. “This is the recipe I’m using.”

“You can’t use some random recipe you find on the internet. What are you? A heathen?” I pulled out the notebook I kept of Mimi’s recipes. “We’ll use a Perkins family recipe. I know I have one in here.”

As I thumbed through the book, he leaned over my shoulder, his breath shifting the hairs at the back of my neck. My entire body warmed. I flipped faster. “Here it is. Let’s preheat the oven to 350 and I’ll get you an apron. We got some bakin’ to do.”

The next thirty minutes we measured and sifted and stirred, and something strange happened. My nervousness melted away.

“Not much of a baker?” I asked. We were sitting side-by-side on stools at the island, waiting for the first batch of cupcakes to bake.

He snorted and adjusted the apron he’d borrowed from my stash. It was one I kept for Mimi which read, I’m Still Hot. It Just Comes in Flashes Now. “Nah. I’m sure Lilah has told you we eat a lot of mac and cheese and hot dogs. Oh, and spaghetti. I can make a mean sauce.”

“Impressive. I’ve never made homemade spaghetti sauce.”

“My mom made me learn when I was in high school. She said a good man isn’t worth a thing if he can’t make a good sauce. Besides, the ladies like a man who can cook.”

I laughed. “But you can only make the one thing?”

“Trust me, I only need the one thing.” He winked. “I’ll make it for you one of these days. You’ll see.”

My stomach flipped over. Was he flirting with me? Also, had the air conditioning quit working? “I’ll take you up on that.”

“It’s a deal,” he said and held out a hand.

My fingers slid against his until our palms touched and his hand swallowed mine. I could feel the dry, warm skin, and I shivered. Our eyes met and held. The tiny creases at the corners of his eyes, that little white scar on his eyebrow, the sharpness of his jaw fascinated me. Warmth traveled up my arm and down my spine, settling low in my stomach. Why did everything about him captivate me? I wondered if he could hear the rapid beating of my heart. I wondered if his heart felt the same way. Without realizing, I leaned toward him and maybe I imagined it, but he tugged on my hand.

And then the oven timer went off.

I jumped, pulled my hand back. “Oh, the cupcakes. I should get them. Out. I should get them out.”

Without waiting for a reply, I rushed to the oven, took out the cupcakes, and put the next batch in. I busied myself putting away ingredients and wiping down counters while my heart returned to normal.

“Would you like something to drink? Water?” I asked.

“Thank you, please.”

I got him a cup and handed it over, careful not to touch his fingers. He frowned down at his water. A rustle came through the baby monitor and then it quieted again. Lilah, probably turned over in her sleep, likely in the middle of a dream about the life cycle of pigeons. The silence stretched until I couldn’t take it. So, of course, I said the exact wrong thing and ruined the warm, gushy, comfortable feeling.

“I’m worried about Lilah. Do you think this talent show is a good idea? Don’t you think the other kids are going to make fun of her?”

His head tilted to the side. “Why would they make fun of her?”

Was he kidding? “Because she’s going to make a fool of herself in front of the entire school.”

“She’s not going to make a fool of herself.”

“Are you purposely trying to not understand? They’re definitely going to make fun of her. Do you know what it feels like to have an entire room of people laugh at you? You’ve probably never experienced that level of embarrassment. You don’t understand how soul-crushing that can be.”

He scoffed, the lines of his face hardening. “You have no idea what I’ve experienced.”