Chapter 17 Butter Ratios and Bum-Shaped Hearts #2
The cookie cutters came out—Alyssa’s collection was extensive and chaotic, ranging from traditional stars and trees to inexplicable shapes like dinosaurs and what might have been a deformed cat.
“Why do you have a cookie cutter shaped like a bum?” Evelyn asked, holding up the offending item.
“That’s a heart.”
“That’s absolutely a bum.”
“It’s a heart that looks like a bum. There’s a difference.”
Evelyn’s laugh was sudden and bright, transforming her whole face. Alyssa wanted to bottle that sound, keep it somewhere safe.
They cut out shapes—mostly traditional, though Alyssa snuck in a few bum-hearts when Evelyn wasn’t looking. Bug supervised from his position of comfort, occasionally offering a bark of what Alyssa chose to interpret as approval.
The baking itself was surprisingly peaceful. They sat on the floor in front of the oven, watching the cookies rise and brown through the glass door, not talking, just existing together in the warm, ginger-scented air.
“This is nice,” Evelyn said eventually.
“Yeah,” Alyssa agreed. “It really is.”
“Should we make them traditional gingerbread men?” Evelyn asked. “Or can we be more…creative?”
Alyssa grinned. “Define creative.”
Evelyn set her jaw, like she was about to propose a hostile takeover. “Let’s make a Christmas tree. But not just any tree. I want a replica of the one in Trafalgar Square. Complete with lights and pigeons.”
“Lights?”
“We’ll use silver balls. Those sugar things.”
“I like the ambition, Crawford.”
“I never do anything half-arsed,” Evelyn said. She pressed her thumb into the dough, sculpting an approximation of the Norwegian spruce, then glanced up. “What about you? Have you always done this kind of thing?”
“Christmas cookies? Yeah. Mum and dad moved all the time, so I made my own traditions.”
“You ever think about expanding? Opening another location?”
Alyssa shook her head firmly, focusing on rolling the dough. “Four Paws is exactly where it needs to be. I’m not interested in uprooting what we’ve built or spreading myself too thin.”
“That’s admirable,” Evelyn said softly. “Knowing what you want and staying committed to it.”
“It’s not always easy,” Alyssa admitted. “People assume I should want more—bigger facilities, multiple locations, that kind of thing. But Four Paws isn’t just a business. It’s home.”
“I understand that,” Evelyn said. “More than you might think.”
They lapsed into silence, the good kind.
Alyssa kept waiting for her usual restlessness to kick in, the urge to fill the air with some story or joke, but it didn’t.
It was enough to…exist. Next to Evelyn, hands sticky with molasses and flour, Bug wedged between their ankles, all of it felt embarrassingly right.
By the time they’d cut, baked, and decorated two trays’ worth of cookies, the kitchen was a warzone. There was icing in Alyssa’s hair and a powdered sugar handprint on Evelyn’s arse that neither of them wanted to address.
Alyssa licked a dab of royal icing off her knuckle and handed a finished biscuit to Bug, who snatched it with surgical precision. “I think we made more of a mess than actual cookies,” she said.
“Worth it,” Evelyn replied, stealing a silver ball and popping it in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, her face unreadable.
Alyssa watched her, heart drumming in her chest. If Evelyn hated it, she’d laugh it off. If she loved it, she’d…well, Alyssa wasn’t sure. This was uncharted territory.
Evelyn set her Christmas tree cookie on the table, then perched on the edge, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Is it hard, not having your parents around at Christmas?”
Alyssa shrugged. “They’re living their best life, travelling the country. I talk to them all the time—video calls, photos of whatever beach or mountain they’re currently exploring. It’s nice, actually. They’re happy.”
“But you never feel like something’s missing?”
Alyssa considered. “Sometimes. But they visit when they can, and I’m genuinely glad they’re out there enjoying themselves. It’s what they love. Besides, I’ve got the dogs. And Lil. And now…” she paused, meeting Evelyn’s eyes, “…new friends who apparently can’t measure butter without a ruler.”
Evelyn was quiet for a long moment. “I thought I had the perfect family,” she said. “Then Mum died. Dad turned into someone I didn’t recognise. I kept trying to fill the hole, but the more I did, the more it grew.”
Alyssa wanted to say something. To fix it. But the words tangled in her throat.
Evelyn smiled, brittle. “Sorry. That’s dark. I didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”
“You didn’t,” Alyssa said, and meant it. “It’s good to talk about it.”
“Maybe.” Evelyn toyed with a gingerbread star, spinning it on its point. “I’ve never been good at this stuff. Sharing.”
“You’re better at it than you think.”
“Only with you, apparently.”
Alyssa blushed. Bug chose this moment to leap onto her lap, presumably angling for more cookies, but it broke the tension. She scratched his ears and grinned at Evelyn. “He’s not subtle, is he?”
“He knows what he wants,” Evelyn replied, her eyes lingering on Alyssa for a moment longer than necessary. “Is this how you imagined your evening going?”
Alyssa tried not to imagine anything at all, lest she ruin the moment. “I thought there’d be more swearing. You seemed like the sort who’d cuss up a storm when covered in molasses.”
“I’ll save it for the clean-up.”
They fell into comfortable silence, sipping their tea while Bug settled between them, finally content after his cookie heist. The kitchen was warm, the fairy lights Alyssa had strung up last week casting a soft glow over the flour-dusted chaos.
Once the tea was drunk and Bug lay snoring on the couch, they cleaned up together, mostly in silence, passing utensils and plates, moving around each other like they’d done it a hundred times.
Every now and then their hands would brush, or one would reach for something at the same moment, but neither pulled away.
When they finished, Evelyn leaned back against the counter, folding her arms.
“Do you want to walk?” she asked.
Alyssa glanced out the window. “It’s freezing.”
“I know. But it helps me think.” Evelyn paused, then added with a small smile, “And I’m not quite ready to leave yet.”
At the sound of the word “walk,” Bug’s head shot up from the couch, suddenly very awake. Within seconds he was at the door, leash in his mouth, giving them the hard sell.
“Well,” Alyssa said, laughing. “Looks like we don’t have a choice now.”
The night was sharp and clear, frost curling at the edges of the windows. Alyssa pulled on her jacket and hat, then held the door for Evelyn, who’d managed to look perfectly put together despite her earlier icing-sugar baptism.
They wandered down the lane, Bug trotting ahead, tail up. Alyssa kept her hands jammed in her pockets, partly against the cold and partly to keep from grabbing Evelyn’s. The urge was almost physical.
“So,” Evelyn said, voice soft in the dark. “What are you doing for Christmas day?”
Alyssa shrugged. “Usual. Open the shelter for the volunteers. Give the dogs turkey treats. Watch Home Alone with Lil.”
“That’s it?”
“Why, what do you do?”
“Order Chinese, argue with my father over the phone, pretend to enjoy every second of it.”
Alyssa laughed. “You could come here, you know. Have turkey with the dogs.”
Evelyn was quiet, shoes crunching on the gravel.
“I’m serious,” Alyssa said. “You’re Bug’s best friend now. And you make a mean gingerbread cookie. I bet you’d be an asset.”
Evelyn looked up at her, eyes luminous. “If I come, you’ll have to let me bring a bottle of something.”
“Of course. I’m not a monster.”
They walked on, not talking, not needing to. Alyssa thought of what Lil had said: You can’t help who you fall for. For once, she didn’t want to help it. She wanted to lean into it, let it catch her, just to see what happened next.
Bug veered off to sniff at a hedge. Evelyn slowed to a stop and turned to face Alyssa, hands tucked into the crooks of her elbows. The air between them went suddenly, wildly electric.
“Thanks for tonight,” Evelyn said.
“You’re welcome.”
They stood there for a moment, close enough that Alyssa could see the flecks of gold in Evelyn’s eyes, could count the freckles dusting her nose. Close enough that it would be so easy to lean in, to close the distance between them, to finally know what Evelyn’s lips tasted like.
But Alyssa held back. Because as much as she wanted to kiss Evelyn—and God, did she want to—she had no idea how to navigate this.
She’d never done this before. Not the slow build, not the uncertainty, not the wanting something more than just casual and easy.
With Hannah and everyone before her, it had been simple: no expectations, no complications.
This mattered. Evelyn mattered. And Alyssa had no roadmap for that.
They walked the rest of the way back in easy silence, Bug weaving between them, anchoring their orbit.
Alyssa thought about everything that had just happened—the mess, the laughter, the secrets—and realized that, for the first time in years, she was exactly where she wanted to be.
And maybe, if she was very lucky, Evelyn was too.