Page 91 of All at Once

Luca starts measuring the ingredients. After preparing the batter for the first cake and placing it in the oven, we move onto the filling. I wait by the kitchen counter as he rinses the fresh raspberries.

This angle is pretty devastating. He doesn’t notice me, yet I have a dangerously graphic view of his hands. I should be measuring the serving of sugar for the next cake. Instead, I continue to stare at his hands. My focus only dwindles when he uses the tips of his fingers to roll powdered sugar over the berries, so slowly that I shift my body slightly to the side so that I don’t make a sound that’ll startle us both.

Then his voice makes me jump from the daze I was just in. “You put two cups of flour in this, right?”

That doesn’t sound like the amount I added. I look at the noticeably emptier sack of flour and quickly shut my eyes. Shit. I knew a number sounded a little off. “No. I put 12,” I say. In my defense the recipesaid12.

His brows crease abruptly. “12?Why the fuck would you put 12?”

“That’s what the recipe says,” I defend.

“No. It says two.” He hands me the recipe and points to the first ingredient.

“What do you call this then?” I ask, referring to the “1” right before the “2”.

Luca takes in a deep breath as he closes his eyes. “That’s a check mark I added when I was trying to find everything to bring here.”

I raise my shoulders in frustration. “How was I supposed to know that? Nothing else has a check mark next to it.”

“That doesn’t make that look any more like a ‘1’ though,” he argues. Then he exhales and looks so serious all of a sudden that it leaves me puzzled. “Did you do this on purpose?”

Now my jaw drops. “What? Of course not.”

Luca’s expression quickly morphs into an arrogant smirk. “You see howannoyingit is to accuse someone of doing something on purpose?”

I can’t believe I fell for that.If he’s going to use my previous words to mock me, I’m going to do the same to him.

“I’m very sorry. Starting now, I’ll run everything by you first just to make sure you’re not giving any mixed signals.”

He scoffs. “Funny. I could say thesameabout you.”

Before either of us can continue, the sound of the timer fills the kitchen. We cautiously stare at the oven as if it’s the last thing we’d like to open right now. I look at Luca and offer, “Maybe it turned out better than we think?”

“Yeah, and maybe by the end of tonight we’ll both be professional bakers,” he deadpans.

I roll my eyes as he opens the oven and takes out the baking pan. The cake smells perfect. But something about the texture seems off.

As Luca places the dessert onto the kitchen counter to cool off, the cake falls off the pan and then onto the floor, making a clunk-like noise both times. If I were to guess, this texture looks nearly identical to that of a rock. Maybe this isn’t the best time todrop my mouth wide open. Or to laugh. But to my dismay I end up doingboth.

When I notice Luca’s back shake, I try to stifle my laughter, not knowing his reaction to this since he’s still facing away from me. Concealing my own reaction just gets worse when I snort as he turns around. And then it’s clear to me. He’s laughing as hard as I am.

I take the chance to tease him, “I’m not looking like the clumsy one right now,am I?”

He points toward himself and then at me. “So me this once vs. you, I don’t know? The last 27 times?”

My eyes light up. “I know what we need.”

“Three espresso shots?” he guesses.

“Better,” I say. “Music.”

He scoffs. “Yes, that’sexactlywhat we need. More distractions.”

I go and grab my phone. “It’ll help us focus more.”

Luca chuckles with an exhausted expression before starting the next batter.

As soon as I press shuffle, and the first song fills the kitchen, he quickly turns around. “‘On An Evening in Roma?’ Interesting choice,” he says, amused.

---