Page 24 of Perfect Pairing
I shrugged. “Sorry I scared you. Maybe if you weren’t destroying your eardrums with the best of the eighties hair bands, you would’ve heard me arrive.”
He inclined his head to the speakers. “You like Def Leppard?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“My kinda girl,” he said, and I preened, toying with the end of my braid and turning my attention to the stove to avoid looking at him.
“What’re you making?”
“Grilled cheese and tomato soup.”
My forehead scrunched in confusion. “That’syour signature dish?”
Ezra chuckled. “Nah. My signature dish is Swedish meatballs with glazed dill butter potatoes and roasted veggies, but grilled cheese sounded more fun. Plus, it’s my son’s favorite.”
I blinked, blindsided by the off-handed comment.He has a son.
“What’s his name?” I asked, surprising myself with the steadiness of my voice.
“Hansen,” Ezra said proudly. “He’s nearly three and the light of my life.”
I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “And his mother?”
He wasn’t wearing a ring, a fact I noted about him almost immediately when we’d met back in June, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a woman in the picture.
“She’s…gone.” A dark, haunted look passed over his eyes, and I’d do anything to return him to the brighter version of himself from a moment before.
As it turned out, I didn’t need to do anything, because a moment later, little feet pattered across the tile floor, and something small collided with my legs.
“Oof!” the small something exhaled sharply, and I whirled to find a little boy staring up at me.
It was easy to see who he belonged to, with his hair both naturally messy and the same chocolate shade as his eyes, both of which he shared with the man standing across from me.
“Be careful, bud!” Ezra said, moving toward us and crouching so he was eye level with his son. “You’ve gotta watch where you’re going.”
“Sowwy,” he said, though his gaze never strayed from me. “You pwetty.”
I flushed warmly as I knelt next to Ezra.
“Thank you,” I said, then extended my hand. “I’m Brie. I’m a baker. Who are you?”
“I’m Hansen, and I’m a boy.”
I laughed, delighted, as Ezra chuckled lowly next to me. “Hansen, this is my friend Brie. She’s going to bake some treats for us today. How does that sound?”
“I wuv tweats!” the little boy shouted, driving a tiny fist into the air.
“How about you help me while your dad makes our lunch?”I asked, then straightened to my full height and reached for his hand. “I was thinking we’d make cupcakes.”
“I wuv cuhcakes!”
I shot Ezra a wink as I led his son to the other side of the counter and retrieved a stool for him to stand on.
Then, we got dirty.
More of the ingredients landed on the counter than anywhere else, but Hansen was having the time of his life, and I was thoroughly enjoying teaching him. Across the way, Ezra continued to construct our sandwiches.
I’d just slid the tray into the oven when Ezra announced the food was ready, so while he got Hansen settled at the workspace with a highchair from the dining room, I put away any perishable ingredients before joining them.
