35. Brie
“How do you feel about a family dinner?”
I stilled at the stove in my bakery kitchen, where I was slowly stirring a cinnamon roll glaze, waiting for the moment it started to bubble before I removed it from the heat. The rolls themselves were nearly ready to come out of the oven, and the entire kitchen smelled of cinnamon and sugar.
It was two weeks into the new year, and Ezra and I were at the bakery, where he was helping me with my online shop orders by measuring out dry ingredients for the scone and muffin kits I needed to mail out by the end of the week. He may not have been the more talented pastry chef of us two, but I trusted him to at least correctly measure ingredients.
Even if he’d once told me he “measures with the heart.”
“I have dinner with my family every week,” I reminded him.
“Okay, fair. What I mean is, like…both of our families. A special dinner. A…coming out of sorts.”
“A coming out with what?”
“Our relationship?”
“Oh!” I said, smacking myself on the forehead. “You want to do a fancy dinner for that?”
Ezra shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but I could tell my question and confusion bugged him. “I just thought it might be a good idea to get everyone together and tell them all at once.”
I moved around the island so I could wrap my arms around his waist and pull our bodies together. I relished the fact that I could do this now—that I could touch him freely and without consequence.
“Will you be cooking?”
Ezra rolled his eyes. “Duh.”
“What’re you thinking of making?” I asked, tilting my head to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. A grumble emanated from his chest.
“Pizza,” he rasped, lowering his face to my neck and inhaling deeply, then licking my skin like I was an ice cream cone. “God, your scent drives me insane. How do you always smell so sweet?”
I pushed away from him before we could get carried away, having far too much work to get done for what would happen if I remained tangled in his embrace.
“I come by it naturally,” I said cheekily as I returned to my glaze.
Ezra snorted. “Right.”
“Hey!” I protested, spinning and throwing an errant piece of dough across the room at him. “I’ll have you know, I’m very sweet. Everyone says so.”
“That’s because they’ve never heard the filthy shit you say in bed.”
My cheeks heated, still not entirely used to the seductress persona I adopted behind closed doors, though I grinned widely at Ezra anyway. I loved the side he brought out of me when we were pressed skin-to-skin. I may have spent all day, every day dealing with customers, surrounded by baked goods, and showing the world I was as sweet as my treats, but I was anything but at night, when Ezra played with my body. My thoughts were sinful, scorching enough to set the sheets on fire.
But to the rest of the world, I was simply reserved, demure Baker Brie.
That was fine by me. I wanted to keep Ezra and our explosive connection all to myself.
“I think a family dinner is a wonderful idea,” I said at last. “Especially if you’re making pizza. You know how much I love your Margherita.”
“Not as much as you love my meatballs,” he said with a wink, and a laugh burst free from me.
God, being with him was so easy .
Admittedly, we were still very much in the honeymoon phase, but even when we hadn’t been as serious about our connection, when we were just trading orgasms and swapping stories over the phone, I’d still never fallen so effortlessly into a relationship with someone. It was why I hardly dated—I often found it difficult to connect with people when my whole life revolved around food, my family, and this small town I called home.
But Ezra understood me better than anyone, because those things were all things he deeply valued as well. He was my equal in so many ways but different enough that we never ran out of things to discuss or discover about each other.
I hoped we never grew out of it.
“Why is Ezra Wendt using my kitchen to make pizza?” Dad asked Saturday evening when he walked into the house. He, Cal, Owen, and Logan had been out ice fishing in the bay, his cheeks bright red over the edges of his dark beard. The scent of fish layered over the fresh, cold air that clung to him. Even Rik and Hansen had gone, and Hansen rushed through the door with a brief greeting to me before beelining for the kitchen and his father. The rest of the guys followed, heading straight for the blend of pizza sauce and baking crust wafting from that direction.
“Because he wanted to do something nice for the family to show his appreciation.”
“Right,” my dad snorted. “It has nothing to do with the fact that you guys have been seeing each other and he’s trying to get into my good graces.”
My mouth gaped as I stared at my father. “How do you know?”
My dad pursed his lips. “Please, Brie,” he said, waving a hand. “I know everything that happens on this peninsula.”
“Not everything,” I mumbled under my breath. If he did—if he had any idea of all the ways the men we’d welcomed into our family had used his daughters’ bodies… Well, they’d already be dead.
“And you’re forgetting he told me he wanted the chance to pursue something with you.”
“Well, he did,” I confirmed .
“And is he treating you well?”
“The best.”
Dad squeezed my shoulder then hauled me in and dropped a kiss atop my head. “That’s all I can ask for.”
Male laughter echoed from the kitchen, and a moment later, the cavalry of my sisters appeared from the den, heading for the sound.
I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Guess I better go see what all the fuss is about.”
My parents’ house had always been full of noise. With five girls, one opinionated mother, and one larger-than-life father, there was always plenty of conversation and laughter.
But to walk into the kitchen and find not only my sisters, but our significant others as well, to be presented with the physical portrait of our growing families… My heart swelled almost painfully in my chest. Inexplicably, tears pricked my eyes. I loved my sisters, and I loved their husbands and boyfriends for loving them.
I loved Ezra most of all.
And Hansen—god, I adored that little boy. He was whip smart, hilarious in that kid way of his, and had a heart three times the size of his little body. He wove himself so seamlessly into the family. My mother fawned over him, my dad was obviously excited to have a little boy running around, and my sisters were patient and attentive when he wanted to share some rambling story about a project he was working on in school or talk all about action figures and superheroes.
In addition, Rik got along great with my parents, which made it that much easier when everyone converged on their house for occasions like this.
My sisters and I were finding our people and slowly knitting our lives together, weaving our significant others into the tapestry of the Delatou legacy.
“I caught a fish that was this big!” Hansen exclaimed, spreading his arms as wide as they would go. “Papa had to help me haul it out of the water.”
Ezra’s brows rose as he said, “Wow, bud! That’s amazing!” Over Hansen’s head, Ezra glanced at his dad, who held his hands apart in a more accurate and modest approximation of the fish Hansen caught.
“He’s quite the perch whisperer,” Logan said with a chuckle, ruffling Hansen’s hair.
“I want to be a professional fisherman when I grow up,” Hansen said, beaming at Logan’s compliment.
Rik approached his grandson and squeezed his shoulder. “You can be whatever you want, ?lskling .”
Hansen only grinned wider, and my heart expanded with it.
These Wendt men were my family now, and I was made for days like this, when the people I loved most were gathered around me, happy and healthy.
At last, I wove my way through the men until I reached Ezra’s side. He paused, placing toppings on one pizza before tugging me into his embrace, planting a kiss atop my head.
“I talked to my dad,” I said conversationally.
“And?”
I shrugged. “He already gave you his blessing. He’s happy for us.” I let my eyes sweep the room then looked up at him. “Everyone is happy for us. ”
“Me too,” he said, capturing my lips in a quick, searing kiss that ended way too soon. I must’ve made a noise of protest, because he chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, honey. There’s more where that came from. Later. When we’re alone.”
“My three favorite words.”
“Is it time to eat yet?” Hansen asked, squeezing between my and Ezra’s legs, his little face scrunched in distress. “I’m starving.”
With a chuckle, I stepped away from his father.
Ezra only rolled his eyes and settled a hand on Hansen’s shoulder, turning him toward the entrance to the kitchen.
“Go round everyone up, kiddo,” he said. “Pizza is coming out now.”
“Yes!” Hansen cheered, pumping his fist in the air and racing from the room, careening around the corner so fast, I gasped, thinking he’d slip and slide right into the opposite wall. Thankfully, he remained on his feet and disappeared deeper into the house, chanting that it was pizza time. The group followed him out, laughing at his exuberance.
As Ezra began removing the pizzas from the oven, I picked up one of his homemade garlic knots and shoved it in my mouth, desperate to quell the hunger pains. Like Hansen, I, too, was starving, the scents of tomato and melty cheese mingling in the air, creating an enticing aroma and driving me insane while I waited for Ezra to finish.
“Hey, honey?” he asked, and I focused my attention on him instead of the pies on the counter.
“Yeah?”
“Will you bring those out to the dining room before you eat them all?” he asked, gesturing to the garlic knots.
I stuck my tongue out but did as he asked, his murmured “brat” following me out.
My family had gathered at the table around Hansen, who sat at the head—in the seat typically reserved for my dad—a fork in one hand, butter knife in the other, napkin tucked into the collar of his shirt like a bib.
“Someone is excited for pizza,” I said, ruffling his hair after setting the garlic bread down.
“It’s my absolute favorite,” Hansen reminded me.
“I know,” I told him. “Hey, remember the first time we met? When you, your dad, and I ate grilled cheese together at the winery?”
Hansen’s eyes squeezed shut, face scrunched up in thought. “Not really,” he said, glancing at me. “I feel like I’ve always known you. You’ve always just been part of our family.”
A chorus of aww s rose from my sisters and mom, and tears pricked my eyes.
This kid. I’d never understand what I did to not only find a love like what I had with Ezra, but to get Hansen out of the deal as well. He was truly the best kid I could’ve imagined. Smart, curious, funny, a total goofball—he kept everyone on their toes with the stuff that came out of his mouth. But he also had the biggest heart out of anyone I knew, which was saying something, given he was barely six years old. It was heartening to see that, despite what he’d gone through as a toddler and having to grow up without a mother, he’d still turned into the sweetest boy who hadn’t let that deter him in the slightest from finding joy in every day .
In short, I loved Hansen.
But he wasn’t mine , and I hated that small part of my brain that refused to shut up about it, the one that liked to remind me I could’ve had my own baby and lost it.
The one begging me to take another shot.
As Ezra appeared in the doorway with the first of the pizzas, I realized with a start that we hadn’t discussed that. We hadn’t discussed much about the future beyond wanting to face it together. I needed to tell him.
Soon.
Tonight.
I gave him a broad smile as he slid the pie to the center of the table, hoping it masked the worst of my anxiety. I opened my mouth to thank him, my family rising from their seats to reach for slices.
Mom had just laid one on Hansen’s plate when Chloe appeared behind Ezra, face pale.
“Coco?” I asked, rushing to her side. “Are you okay?”
“Uhh…Logan?” she said to her husband, ignoring me.
“Yeah, babe?” Logan asked, not lifting his eyes from the food in front of him.
“My water just broke.”
Eyes wide, I glanced down to see Chloe’s jeans were in fact wet, like she’d peed herself.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
And that seemed to be the catalyst that sent the rest of the room into action. Before, where you could hear a pin drop, there was now a flurry of activity. My mother stood at the table, openly sobbing. Dad, stoic as ever, remained seated, grinning widely around a mouthful of pizza. Next to him, Hansen ignored the adults as he dove into his own slice. Ezra backed to the edge of the room as Logan rushed to my sister, scooping her into his arms as best as he could with her bump between them, murmuring low words of comfort and affirmation to her before setting her down and hustling them both out of the room without a word to anyone else.
This was their moment, and I knew he’d keep us updated. I watched them go, excitement for my sister and the arrival of my niece tinged by the worry that I’d never have the opportunity to experience such a thing myself.