Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Camden
Theo and I watch as she starts pulling the ingredients out of the pantry cabinet and sets them on the counter. Flour, sugar, salt, olive oil, and a little packet of yeast. Next, she retrieves a measuring cup and a stack of bowls and turns on the tap water to let it warm up.
I set Theo on the counter. “Do you do this a lot?” I ask, hoping she understands I’m referring to cooking or baking.
“Umm, no,” she replies with a chuckle. “Normally, I’d just throw a pizza in the oven. I haven’t made homemade pizza in…a while.” Something flashes across her face.
I’m curious now. “Where’d you learn?” I don’t recall her mom ever serving homemade pizza.
She carefully measures out the warm water and pours the water into a bowl before glancing at me and replying, “Your mom.”
I should have known.
If Maren wasn’t out in the garage with me, she was in the house with my mom.
She’d often help prepare dinner, always wanting to contribute, even if it was just setting the table.
I know she learned a lot from my mom, and this is just proof.
Especially since she’s not using a recipe card.
She’s recalling it by memory, and if what she said was true and she hasn’t made it anytime recently, that’s saying something.
“She was the master in the kitchen,” I say, watching her work.
“She was. I learned a lot from her.” I don’t miss the blush on her cheeks she tries to hide by lowering her chin into her chest. She dumps a tablespoon of yeast into the warm water, as well as a tablespoon of sugar and slides the bowl toward me. “Will you help him stir this?”
“Absolutely,” I reply, taking the whisk and turning my attention to Theo. “Ready to stir this up, little dude?”
“Yep!”
While we attack that task, she preps other ingredients.
“How long do we stir?” I ask, watching as the mixture starts to change.
“Just until mixed well.” She steps beside me and glances over my shoulder. “That’s perfect. Now we let it sit for about five minutes or so.”
I try to ignore the pull I suddenly feel having her right next to me. I catch the scent of her shampoo, the sweet lotion hanging on her skin, the heat of her body being near me. I have to fight the urge to spin around and shove my nose in her neck.
And maybe lick it.
I can’t help but wonder if she feels something too, because she quickly averts her gaze and clears her throat.
“I helpdid, Mommy,” Theo announces, pulling our attention.
“You’re a huge help,” she replies, reaching over and running her hand over his hair.
“Yep!” he agrees, watching as his mom starts to slide measured ingredients over to the bowl.
She moves to the oven and turns it on, preheating to a high degree, and goes to the box and starts digging. “Yes!” she proclaims, pulling a bubble-wrapped item from within.
“Good news?”
“I was afraid it could have broken in all the shuffling around,” she replies, ripping the wrapping off.
The pan is a pizza stone. I recognize it immediately.
My mom bought it for her for Christmas our senior year of high school.
Maren was so excited to receive that pizza stone, and they seasoned it and used it to make homemade pizza the next day.
She walks us through adding the additional ingredients, while pulling a tube of pork sausage from the fridge. “How about I cook the sausage, while you do what you have to do for the dough.”
“Sounds good,” she replies, handing me the meat, while I give her the spatula.
“Okay, Theo, we’re gonna make a mess.”
I can’t help but watch while my pan starts to heat to cook the ground sausage. After cleaning a spot on the counter, she sprinkles flour onto the counter and drops the ball of dough. Then, she retrieves the roller from the drawer, coats it with a thin layer of flour, and gets to work.
“Help me?” she asks, turning the pin so Theo can place his hands on top of hers.
He giggles while they make slow, smooth motions to flatten the crust. I turn my attention to the pan and start to cook the meat.
As much as I want to witness their interaction, I keep my focus on the task in front of me.
Why? Because every moment I watch the two of them together, I want to take them in my arms and risk my heart all over again.
And I just don’t know if I’m ready for that.
“Are you going to add the cheese?” Maren asks her son.
“Yep, I add cheese.” He rubs his belly and says, “Mmm.”
“Cheese is good,” she replies with a chuckle. She continues to roll the dough until it’s the right size and shape.
“What do you do with the grease?” I ask when the meat is almost ready.
She retrieves a plastic grease trap from the cabinet. “Pour it in here.”
“You got it.”
I do as instructed, and by the time the meat is ready for the pizza, Maren and Theo have the pizza stone heated from the oven, the dough placed on the stone, and are finishing the sauce.
“Be careful. The stone is very hot, remember?” she says softly, helping coat the raw dough with a thick layer of marinara sauce from a jar.
Then, we add the cheese. I coat the entire crust with mozzarella cheese, with Theo assisting.
“If you want to scoop some of that onto half the crust, I’ll grab a can of mushrooms,” she says, stepping aside so I can move in beside her son. I place the pan on a potholder out of the way so little hands can’t reach it and get burned.
“Do you like sausage on your pizza?” I ask, carefully scooping the meat onto the cheese.
“Cheese!”
“Just cheese?” I chuckle.
“Yep! Wots of cheese,” he insists, kicking his legs out and letting them thump against the cabinets.
Maren places the small can of mushrooms beside a can opener. I don’t say anything about her toppings of choice, because they don’t surprise me at all. Maren always chose sausage and mushrooms for her pizza, maybe even adding some other veggies too. However, tonight, it’s just her two favorites.
She washes her hands a second time and covers the sausage with the mushroom pieces, smiling as she practically covers the entire half of the pizza. When she finds me watching her, she asks, “Too much?”
I bark out a laugh and shake my head. “Is there such a thing?”
Maren shakes her head. “Nope. They are delicious,” she insists, popping a piece of mushroom into her mouth. The smile on her lips lights up her entire face, reminding me just how fucking gorgeous she is.
“Cheese!”
She startles and looks away, her hand holding a hint of a tremor as she gives her full attention to Theo.
“Let’s add just a little more cheese,” she says, grabbing the bag and carefully just a bit more mozzarella.
“Me help.”
“Let’s wash your hands first,” she says.
I jump in and grab Theo, moving him to the sink and holding him up to wash his hands under the faucet. When he’s done, I grab the hand towel for him to dry his little hands and replace him on the counter.
He reaches into the bag his mom holds open for him and fists a large handful of cheese.
“Not so much, Theo. You’ll squish it all together,” she replies.
Together, I watch as they finish off the pizza with a little more mozzarella.
In fact, I end up pulling out my phone and snapping a few pictures.
Theo is grinning from ear to ear the entire time, carefully adding cheese to his half of the pizza, and I’m overwhelmed with the need to document this moment.
My thought process is to just send them to Maren, capturing their moment together. I’ll delete them afterward.
Right?
Finally, the pizza is ready to bake, and Maren carefully transfers the pizza stone from the counter to the oven. “Ten to fifteen minutes.”
“Down,” Theo announces, holding out his arms for help.
I move first, lowering him to the floor, and immediately he takes my hand. “Come see my woom.” He then tugs my hand, dragging me toward the living room.
Glancing over my shoulder, I quickly ask, “Is this okay?” I don’t want her to feel like I’m walking around her house without her consent. Being invited to join them for dinner is one thing, but going into bedrooms is another.
“Of course,” she replies, a soft smile on her lips.
I’m pulled into the second bedroom, the one I know is Theo’s. It’s set up now, more so than it was when I helped move stuff in that first weekend. “Bwuey!” He points to his bed, to the bedding that’s clearly been slept in recently, and runs over to grab a stuffed plushy of a blue dog.
I take the stuffed animal and follow his directives, sitting on the floor when told to. I’m suddenly surrounded by all sorts of toys, given the option of what I want to play with. He’s chatting away, explaining each and every toy as he brings it over and places it at my lap.
I can’t stop smiling.
Hanging out with Theo is probably the first time I’ve ever been in the presence of a child on this level.
It’s personal and incredibly enjoyable. I wanted kids when I was younger, but until very recently, haven’t had a lot of experience with them.
My niece is only a few weeks old, and right now, being with Theo in his bedroom and having him show me practically everything he owns has me itching to experience these moments with Junie too.
But I get these moments with my new little friend now, and I’m enjoying the hell out of them. Theo is inquisitive, energetic, and a lot of fun to hang with.
Did I really just think that?
Fun?
It’s true. I’m drawn to him, to helping him learn and live new things, to witnessing the pure joy he experiences in the most simple moments of life.
And his mom?
Well, we’re not going there right now.
“Hey, guys.” Speaking of, Maren is leaning against the doorjamb and offers the hint of a smile. “Pizza’s ready.”
“I showdid Cam my stuff!”
“Yeah? Well, it’s time to eat. How about we go wash up for dinner, but afterward, you’ll have to come in and clean up the mess you made,” she states, glancing around at the mountain of toys in my lap and at my feet.
“I’ll help,” I insist, feeling terrible that he has to pick it all up after just wanting to show me his toys.
“You don’t have to do that,” she replies.