Page 89 of Baking and Angels

It did not seemto soothe.

She was too focused on her failure. “I just don’t get it. Why does everything I cook turn into a disaster? I’m cursed!”

Rafferty sighed, “Your baking sheet is too dark,” he said.

“What?” Helena asked, pausing to followhis gaze.

He picked up the sheet and traced a finger along the edge. “Too dark of a baking sheet absorbs more heat, cooking your dough faster, so it takes less time. And you’re baking. You’re notcooking.”

She narrowed her eyes at that, then crawled over to her counter to pull down a familiar spiral cookbook. Sitting down with her back against the cabinets, she laid out Nana’s cookbook against her thighs and scanned the pages. “So, ten to twelve minutes would betoo long?”

“In your oven, yes. And”—he stretched his hand into the oven’s body—“the other thing about your oven specifically, it doesn’t heat evenly.”

“What?”

“I noticed this before, it’s always hotter in the back than in the front, so anything that is made in it has to be turned around partwaythrough.”

“You’rekidding!”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said.

“My cat was on fire! How is that not abig deal?”

He scrunched his nose. “Yeah, how did that happen?”he asked.

“I seriously don’t know! One minute I’m pulling the burnt mess out of my oven and the next thing I know,fwoosh! This oven isn’t even that old. Dammit!”

“Also, I think your eggs were too cold. You took them straight out of the refrigerator, right? You didn’t give them time to warm up or put them in warm water or something?”

“Why would that matter?”

He pulled down the batter again and gave it another stir. “Cold eggs prevent the dough from aerating properly, making it so they don’t develop air pockets, so you won’t get a good texture in your cookie. I’m guessing you didn’t use room temperature butter either, you just popped it into the microwave and turned it toliquid…”

“Okay, okay, I get it! I suck!” Helena shouted, burying her head in her arms. “I just wanted to do something nicefor you!”

Setting the bowl to the side, Rafferty shifted until he sat next to Helena, but like so many times since he met her, he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to put his arm around her, but she was so prickly at that moment, he was sure that would only makeit worse.

But then she decided for him, lifting her head to drop it against his shoulder, her eyes closed. Automatically, his arm lifted, and she slid into them naturally. Cradling her to his chest, he buried his nose into her golden-red hair, breathing her in, erasing the burnt smell fromhis nose.

“Thank you for the cookies,” he whispered, and hemeant it.

They sat that way for a few peaceful moments, then she asked, “Did you like the uniform I pickedfor you?”

He stiffened.Why is she asking this now?The thought felt irrational, but it also had the gravity of fate. Inevitable. Like anexecution.

“What is it, lover?” she urged, softly, cupping her hands around his face. “Rafferty? Talk to me?”

“Are you really my Helena?” he asked, his voice breaking under the strain.

He could feel her start to pull away, and he pressed his hand, trapping hers in place. “No, please. I’m sorry, forget it. Forget I said it. Please.” But his entreaties did nothing. Her hand escaped, and she sat back a little more, her gaze piercing him, judging him. He deserved it.

“What do you mean, ‘Am I really Helena?’ Who else would I be?”

“Dammit, dammit, dammit,” he muttered, and he covered his face. If he were still a demon, he could have blinked himself away. How do humans escape these situations?

“Rafferty. Do youbelieveI’m not who Isay I am?”

“No!” Yet that wasn’t true either. “I’m afraid… I’m afraid… I’m…” He growled. “I don’t know what to say!”

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