Page 116 of The Overtime Kiss

When I walk into the foyer with the crew, the voices carry all the way from the kitchen. But they’re different than the voices at my parents’ home, where everyone was tense, clipped. Now, the voices are teasing, playful.

“Dude. You do not make risotto until the end, okay?” That’s Miles.

“That makes no sense,” Tyler replies.

“It makes all the sense,” Miles says. “You can’t reheat it. It tastes bad reheated. You need to serve it fresh.”

“Seriously?” Tyler sounds doubtful, but worried too—like he wants this risotto dish to be just right.

“Just trust me on this,” Miles says, warm and reassuring. “We’ll tackle something else instead.”

There’s rustling in the kitchen as we kick off our shoes. Trevyn raises his eyebrows, curious. “What’s the surprise?”

I turn to Luna. “Do you have any idea?”

“Nope,” she says, unbothered, but that’s life for a ten-year-old.

“Don’t ask me,” Parker says with a shrug. “Cooking is hard. Science is easy.”

“Little man, cookingisscience,” Trevyn says to Parker, ruffling his hair.

We all head into the kitchen, where Tyler and Miles are wearing aprons.

Miles’s apron is covered in illustrations of dogs and the wordsDogs—For Whom Everything Is Exciting.And Tyler’s black and red apron says,Don’t Ask Me. I’m Just Here for the Food.

Miles swats Tyler’s hand as he tries to sneak a taste of mashed potatoes. “Watch it, Little Falcon.”

“I made them,” Tyler says, indignant.

“And I know your style. You’ll eat them all before we sit down. Let’s focus on the cranberries,” Miles instructs, and both the brotherly diss and the brotherly love make me smile.

They must realize we’re here since they look up at the same time. Tyler turns his gaze to the clock. “I didn’t realize you were back yet from the park,” he says, sounding a little concerned.

“I hope we didn’t ruin your surprise,” I say, feeling bad that maybe we walked in too soon. On the risotto perhaps?

Miles punches Tyler’s arm. “Nope. Because Little Falcon got it wrong, but I’m here to save the day. Like I told you I would on the plane.”

Tyler scoffs. “Pretty sure I did that already with my epic mashed potatoes.”

“I love mashed potatoes,” I say. “And really, all sides.”

I scan the evidence of Thanksgiving prep across the counter: the sliced-up Brussels sprouts, the mashed potatoes, the fresh cranberries. The smells of the holiday mingle—rosemary and butter, tart cranberries, and fresh rolls.

And then I catch a hint of Tyler. That woodsmoke scent that catches me off guard in the best of ways.

He looks caught off guard too, though almost bashful ashe glances from Luna to me. “Anyway, the surprise is still happening. But it’s not a surprise anymore. I thought I’d make you a mushroom risotto for a main dish. One we serve with the turkey. For the vegetarians in my life. But I have to do it last, it turns out.”

Luna gasps, then runs over to him and gives him a side hug. “You’re the best, Dad.”

Tyler hugs her back, and joy warms his hazel eyes. But relief does too. Like he’s glad he did right by her. I want to do the same as Luna—rush over and hug him in thanks. But I can’t, and a twinge of sadness digs into me for a few seconds. I clasp my hands behind my back, twisting my fingers together like I need to hold myself back.

Trevyn tosses me a look that says,Girl, you’ve got it bad.

My heart squeezes even more as Tyler gives Luna a kiss on the forehead.

“I wanted you two to have something special,” he says, then looks to Parker. “And I have plenty of turkey for you.”

“Thanks, Dad. You’re a turkey.”

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