Chapter 30
FAKE IT ’TIL YOU BAKE IT
Thane
“Oooh! Muffins!” my niece yells from the kitchen, and Sera and I immediately pull apart.
The most intimate moment I’ve ever experienced at her fingertips is over, and I feel her absence immediately.
My heart rattles in my chest and I can barely catch my breath.
She runs a hand through my hair to fix it back into place, and I tuck a rebel strand of her hair behind her ear.
It’s midnight, Cinderella. Back to real life you go!
I sigh and stand, offering my hand to help her up.
She takes it willingly, and when she rises, she is far too close—but not close enough.
We hover in the space, silence surrounding us.
I don’t want to move. And from her body language, neither does she.
Her fingers brush against mine and I inhale like I was just given the breath of life.
“What now?” she asks.
“I’m not sure. But there’s no innocent way of getting out of this pantry when there are witnesses in the kitchen.”
She touches her beautiful, bare lips. “Do you think they’ll know?”
I stare at her mouth, still tasting her on my own lips. “They’ll fill in all the gaps, whether we want them to or not,” I say with a muted laugh, and force my gaze to move up to her eyes. “And with the aroma of the muffins you baked wafting through the house, everyone will be up soon.”
“Well, that backfired.” She laughs.
“Not for those of us with hungry bellies this morning. I’m more afraid that every muffin will be gone before we figure out how to get out of here.”
“Here,” she says, handing me a big bag of flour. She grabs a handful of nonsensical things that she most definitely does not need for baking, and leaves the pantry first. “Thanks for your help. I’m not sure who put that up so high,” she says over her shoulder at me.
“Of course,” I say like the horrible actor that I am, and drop it down onto the counter.
The whole room goes silent and a hundred pairs of eyes are fixed on us.
She stiffly sets aside her “ingredients” and pulls dough out of the fridge.
She lays it on the floured countertop and goes right to work, folding it and rolling it out before she realizes that everyone is still watching her.
I sit back and watch the whole awkward exchange.
“What?” she finally asks the crowd of onlookers.
A grin chases across my face and I whip around to hide myself in the fridge under the guise of getting out the milk.
“What was that about?” Bash asks.
“What do you mean?” she says, feigning innocence, but no one is falling for it.
Except me. I’ll fall for anything she does.
Bash laughs. “You’re the worst liar ever, Sera. Just admit you two were canoodling in the pantry and get it over with.”
She gasps and I snicker from the open refrigerator.
“There was no canoodling!” she protests, but when everyone laughs at her she ropes me in. “Thane, tell them!”
“There was definitely canoodling,” I say over my shoulder with a grin, and she smacks my arm.
“It’s about time,” my mother mumbles under her breath.
I whip around. “What was that, Mom?”
“Oh, nothing,” she says with a wave of her hand.
“No, really. If you’ve got something to say, say it loud, from your chest,” I tease, smacking my chest.
“Okay.” She folds her arms, calling my bluff. “It’s about damn time you two have realized you’re perfect for each other. We want grandchildren that unite our families. Get it done already!”
Sera pauses mid-fold. My snarky smile fades.
Every snappy comeback wipes from my brain and we are both left sitting there like two blank pages.
The silence after my mom dropped her truth-bomb deafens my ears, and I laugh to ease the tension.
Only it doesn’t sound like a genuine laugh.
It comes out all high-pitched and squeaky, and Sera closes one eye to endure it.
I keep pushing it, though, because I’d rather be awkward in front of everyone I care about than face any more of that uncomfortable discussion.
“Good one, Mom,” I say, snapping my finger-guns at her.
Seriously? Finger guns?
Sera’s dad—bless him—breaks the tension. “Muffins, huh? Did you make my favorite?” he asks Sera and plants a kiss on the top of her head. She hands him a giant blueberry muffin with lemon glaze and smiles.
“I saved one just for you, Daddy.”
“Thanks, Kitten,” he says with a smile and grabs a cup of coffee.
As if on command, the crowd disperses into their own worlds again and the bustle of breakfast continues. I exhale the tension building up inside me.
I lean into Sera slightly. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I say quietly.
“Were we in the same conversation just now?” she replies, then wraps her croissant dough and puts it back into the fridge. “At this rate, these chocolate croissants won’t be done until the day we leave,” she mutters under her breath.
“I think I handled it pretty well, considering…”
“You were as big of a dumpster fire at containing that whole thing as I was. Don’t flatter yourself,” she says with a serious face, but I spot the corners of her mouth tick upward slightly before she turns to clean up her baking mess.
“Plus, we broke Rules Two and Three. What’s the point of having them if we don’t follow them? ”
“Not so fast there, Pigeon. You broke Rule Two first.”
“Well, you didn’t exactly object,” she retorts.
“Now why on earth would I do that?” I say low in her ear. “Rule Two is the funnest one to break.”
“You’re hopeless,” she says, trying to clean up around me.
“Am I? I’m betting that secretly, you liked what my mom said. In fact, I’ll bet there’s an old diary of yours with you practicing ‘Sera Donnelly’ in big, loopy cursive. And I’m also willing to bet that in said diary, you already have our kids named. Don’t you?”
Her face turns bright red and she raises a floured hand to cool her cheek.
“I knew it!” I tease.
“I was fifteen years old. Long before I knew how insufferable you’d be as we grew up.” She smacks my pec muscle and a cloud of flour puffs across my shirt. I leave her handprint, but take a paper towel and wipe the flour from the counter, laughing at the whole situation.
“Thank you,” she says softly and puts her dirty dishes in the sink to soak. She grabs a muffin and some fruit and puts them onto a paper plate. “I should probably take some breakfast to Bradley. He’s too embarrassed to come downstairs and we can’t have him getting hangry now, can we?”
I put on my most stoic face to hide the joy I feel in his misery—especially after the way he treated her this morning. She disappears up the stairway, and I make a plate for her for later.