Page 39 of One Little Chance
“Honey?” Mom answered with a tone of surprise.
“My oven is on fire!”
“Honey!” She gasped.
I knelt beside the oven, watching as the fire dimmed, and my pie baked to a blackened crisp. All I could think was,Now I’d need to ask Jordan for more apples. I’d promised an apple pie.
“What are you doing? Call 911!”
“It’s burning out,” I said, staring through the oven door. “I ruined it though.” The weight of how much these pies, this Thanksgiving dinner, the Silk family, all meant to me weighed heavy on my chest until I broke under it, crying in a ball on the kitchen floor.
“Sophie. Is it the pies?What happened?Do you need me to come over and help you?” Mom said, her voice still high from the panic of hearing her daughter had a small kitchen fire.
I broke into a sob. “I don’t have the ingredients for either of my pies. And now I’m making two. Because I just wanted them to like me again.”
“Forget about the pies. I’m bringing Nonna’s famous tiramisu, so we’ll say it’s from the both of us.” Mom’s voice was soft like a hand brushing against a forehead. “And who do you want to like you?”
“All of them. Jordan’s family. His sisters can’t seem—” I was sniffling into the phone when Jordan walked in through my front door, arms full of grocery bags.
“Rogers, what’s going on in here?” His face was a mix of terror and care when he spotted a flour-covered, sobbing me sitting in the midst of a smoke-filled kitchen.
“Mom, I got to go. Jordan’s here,” I whispered into the phone then ended the call.
Jordan set the bags on the counter. “I take it the apple pie is no more?”
I nodded, swiping at my eyes. “No use crying over spilled apple pie, huh?” I tried to joke. Just Jordan’s appearance in my kitchen made things feel a little lighter, a little brighter.
“Two fires in one year—not a good look for us.” Jordan plopped down beside me in the middle of the mess. “What happened here? You look sad. Is it because of the pie?” He peered through the oven door. “Clearly caught fire.”
“I am sad, yes. Because I burned the apple pie, and now, I have to remake it. I also have to make the pumpkin pie. I’m also out of apples, and it’s getting late. And I was all sweaty in that turkey costume…” I felt a sob try to escape my chest again. “I just want your whole family to…” My voice dropped, barely a whisper as I said, “Love me back.”
“You love me. And you love me good. That’s all you’ve gotta do for them to love you.” Jordan pulled me close to his side.
“It’s not that easy in the world of in-laws,” I moaned into his shoulder. He smelled like pine and clean laundry. I burrowed in closer.
“In-laws?” He grinned. “Thinking ahead.”
“I know how much your family means to you. So they mean a lot to me.” My voice felt small under the weight of my big feelings—my big fears.
“This is about my sisters and their weirdness about your holiday invitations?” Jordan tipped my chin up with his index finger to look into my eyes.
I nodded.
“This is the first holiday in a lifetime of holidays spent together. My sisters will get used to it. Plus, you’re easy to love, Rogers. The girls don’t stand a chance.”
I let out a big breath. Jordan breathed with me.
I grinned at him and swiped a flour-covered finger across his nose. “Are you looking forward to a lifetime of pies on fire and flour everywhere?”
“I’m looking forward to a lifetime ofyou. I want it all. Every version.” He pulled me into his lap as he spoke. “Messy flour-covered you. Starting-fires you. Young you. Old you. Crying you. Melting-in-my-arms you. I’ve loved every version I’ve known, so keep ‘em coming.” He ran his fingers through my hair as he pulled my lips against his, kissing me deeply.
My hands left smears of flour across his sweater as we kissed there on the kitchen floor.
He kissed me until I was breathless—until I was giggly and happy. All my stress went up in smoke.
As we stood back up, he said, “Now, put me to work. If you’re making pies, then I’m making pies, too.”
I winced. “I’m all out of apples. I migh?—”
