Page 28 of Press Play

When Theo and I make it downstairs, Malory’s already bustling around the kitchen, pulling out bowls and ingredients, muttering to herself about “softened butter” and “getting the oven preheated this time.”

Her eyes light up when we walk in. “There you are! About time.” She teases us, shooting Theo a playful glare. “I had half a mind to get started without you two, but then I remembered I need someone tall to reach the chocolate chips.”

“Just admit you need me, Mom.” Theo grins, rolling up his sleeves. He nudges me. “Wren, grab an apron. Can’t have you running off mid-cookies because flour ruined your fancy clothes.”

I glance down at my hoodie and torn sweatpants. “Clearly, my glamour is lost on you.” I snort, reaching for an apron hanging on a hook.

Malory hands me a whisk with a look that says she’s about to put me to work, and I can’t help but smile. It’s been a while since I felt this... at ease.

“Now, Wren,” Malory says, her tone mock stern, “I know Theo will have you believe he’s some kind of baking prodigy, but let’s be honest. His specialty is standing around and eating the cookie dough.”

“Mom, you’re ruining my mystique here!” Theo protests, feigning shock as he grabs the bag of chocolate chips from the cabinet. “And for the record, I am a fantastic stirrer.”

“Uh-huh,” she replies, giving me a sly wink. “You’ll have to keep an eye on him, Wren. If you don’t, half the chocolate chips will be gone before they even touch the batter.”

I laugh, glancing over at Theo, who, predictably, is already sneaking a handful of chips.

“Consider me on chip-guard duty, then,” I say, pretending to narrow my eyes at him.

Theo raises his hands in surrender. “Caught red-handed. Guess you’re going to have to show me how it’s done, Wren.”

We set to work, and Malory talks us through each step, making sure I’m comfortable with the ingredients. As I crack eggs and measure gluten-free flour, a strange warmth settles inside me.

Theo and Malory keep the banter flowing, trading quips and bickering like it’s a sport. When Theo messes up the sugar measurement, Malory smacks him with a dishtowel, making me laugh so hard I nearly spill the vanilla extract.

“See, Wren’s got it together.” She looks pointedly at Theo, who’s giving me a wounded look.

Leaning close, Theo says in a conspiratorial whisper, “The real question is, who do you trust more? Me or the woman who forgot the baking soda last time?”

Malory gasps in mock outrage. “Oh, don’t even start! That was a onetime thing, and I was very sleep-deprived.”

“Of course,” Theo says, giving me a smirk. “Just wait, Wren. You’ll be finding cookies as flat as pancakes if you don’t keep her on her toes.”

Malory rolls her eyes and turns to me with a grin. “Don’t listen to him. He just likes to pretend he’s the expert, even though I taught him everything he knows.”

“Everything? That’s a stretch, Mom.” Theo scoops some flour, flicking a little on Malory’s apron with a grin. “Look at you. Just itching for a food fight.”

“Oh, please. I would win,” she laughs, reaching for a spoonful of cookie dough, but Theo swats her hand away.

“Not until they’re in the oven!” he says, trying to hold back his laughter.

As I watch them, I loosen up, the stress of earlier finally falling away. For once, I don’t have to feel responsible, like I’mthe one keeping everyone else together. I’m just here, in the moment, surrounded by this chaotic, comforting energy.

“All right, Wren,” Theo says, passing me a spoon and gesturing to the mixing bowl. “Moment of truth. You get to do the final stir. Only the chosen few have this privilege.”

I roll my eyes, suppressing a smile. “Well, I’m honored, truly.”

I stir the dough, and with each turn of the spoon, a sense of contentment grows. It’s almost surreal—like I’ve stepped into a world where it’s okay to laugh, where it’s normal to be this close to people without feeling out of place.

After the cookies are scooped and in the oven, Theo plops on the couch and grabs the remote.

“Find us a movie to watch!” Malory calls as she cleans her hands. “Better yet, let Wren choose.”

I take the seat beside Theo, and our knees brush. I swear his cheeks turn pink, but it might be my imagination.

“Let me make a wild guess.” He side-eyes me. “A princess movie?”

“Please,” I say with a soft smile.

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