Chapter 9
I gave Ellie some fruit to eat—actually, I cut up several pieces onto a little plate and handed it to her while she sat in her high chair. Meanwhile, I gathered all the ingredients for our cookies.
I’ve always loved cooking—my mother was the one who taught me. I used to help her every day, just like I do with little Ellie now. She’d call me and I’d run over, so happy, knowing that besides spending time together, I’d learn something new.
Together, we made cookies, cakes, donuts, pizzas, pasta, and so many other things. Mom knew how to make everything—her cooking repertoire was huge, and I learned so much from her. Then later with Grandma, it got even better, because she cooked even more than my mother did.
Now I teach Ellie, and we have so much fun cooking together because she’s smart and does everything perfectly. Despite the list of tasks her father gave me, I added our kitchen time without his permission, because I could see how much she loved it when we made that cake.
And despite everything, he didn’t even complain. Little by little, I’m changing her routine, which has way too much for a child her age. She needs to play too, not be cooped up in her room for hours.
Next year she’ll start school, so while I’m here, I’m going to make her happy, and we’re going to play a lot.
I had a wonderful childhood. My parents decided to have only one child, and after I was born, they did an excellent job raising me—they taught me right from wrong, gave me love, an education, and everything I needed.
So today, I thank them for the woman I’ve become, and even though I’m not Ellie’s mother, I’ll pass on everything they gave me. I can see how happy she is with me here. When she finishes her meal, she calls out to me and I snap out of my reverie.
“Li, I’m done. Can we start the cookies?”
“Of course, sweetie. Let Li just wash your plate and then we’ll start, okay?”
“Yesss,” she says, clapping her little hands excitedly.
As soon as I finish getting everything ready, I lift her onto the counter where she always sits to help me. The ingredients are all laid out. I cover her little outfit with a cloth, and we begin another day of cooking.
We’re in the middle of it when we hear the front door open. Ellie looks at me and says:
“Is that Daddy?”
“Want to go see?”
I lift her down from the counter and follow her, and sure enough, Mr. Owen walks in, wearing his all-black suit and looking serious as always.
The little girl runs up to him and hugs his leg, getting flour all over his expensive suit.
He looks at his daughter, then at me, and I just shrug like, “What can you do? She’s just a kid. ”
“Daddyyy, you’re home!”
“Hi, sweetheart. What are you up to? You’re covered in flour.”
“Me and Li are making cookies. Come with us!”
“Daddy can’t, sweetheart. I still have work to do.”
I see her sad little face, but he notices too. Just as I’m about to pick her up and try to distract her, she says:
“Pwease, just a little bit.”
“It won’t take long—we’re already mixing everything to shape the cookies.”
He crouched down to her level, kissed her cheek, gave her a hug, then stood up, took her little hand, and started walking toward the kitchen.
“Let’s go make those cookies, and mine are going to be the prettiest.”
I give him a half smile—he’s finally making his daughter happy—and follow them.
“Yay, Daddy’s gonna help! Mama, we’re gonna make lots of cookies!”
“Yes, and they’re going to be delicious, right, princess?” I ask, booping her nose and leaving it covered in flour.
Mr. Owen takes off his jacket and tie, rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, and unbuttons a few buttons while I watch.
Why does the jerk have to be so handsome, huh?
He could be an ugly old man with a big nose and an even bigger wart on the tip, with a belly that arrives somewhere before he does.
I’m laughing at my intrusive thoughts when he looks at me, so I get serious and turn back to the dough.
After kneading the dough thoroughly, it’s ready for us to make our little figures. I bought some molds and I’m showing the two of them how to use them while they pay close attention.
And so begins our horror show—yes, because the cookies turn out horrible, but delicious. Mr. Owen has absolutely no skill with anything kitchen-related. He can barely roll out dough.
I pull the first tray out of the oven and start laughing to myself.
“If we had to survive on cookies, we’d starve. They turned out so ugly.” I show them and they start laughing with me.
“Ah, they’re not that ugly. Come on, of course this was supposed to be a head…” He stops and stares at what was supposed to be a little person, and who knows what it turned into. “I really don’t know what to call this.”
“It looks like a monster, Daddy.” We laugh at the little one’s comment.
“That’s right, sweetheart. We made a bunch of little monsters.”
Just then, Marcus walks into the kitchen, looks at all of us covered in flour, then at the cookies I set on the counter to cool.
“What is that?”
“They were supposed to be little gingerbread men.” I pick up the cookie cutter and show him.
“Are you sure you actually used that cookie cutter?”
I stick my tongue out at him, and Ellie corrects me right away.
“Li, you can’t do that, it’s not nice.”
We smile at her correction. After all, I’m the one who taught her not to do that, after she stuck her tongue out at a friend at the park. She learned fast.
“Sorry, my little one. Auntie Li was wrong, but Marcus insulted our cookies by saying they’re ugly.”
“Uncle Maicus won’t eat any.”
“You’re pretty smart for your age, little girl. You’re cutting Marcus off from cookies.”
“Yes, Daddy. He said they’re ugly, so he won’t eat any.”
“Yours turned out beautiful, little girl. They must be these right here, right?” He points to the ones I made myself.
“Yes, those are the ones Ellie made, and honestly, they turned out better than mine and Mr. Owen’s.”
He looks at me and smiles, clearly approving of how I defended his daughter.
Ah, that smile. He has a beautiful mouth—full, red—and the light stubble around it makes it even more charming.
There go those intrusive thoughts again.
I shake my head and try to focus on why I’m here, and I’m sure it’s not to fall for my boss’s mouth.