“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I said.
Sixteen
Ryan
“No, Zoey! Stop!”
“Uncle Ryan! Zoey spilled the milk!”
“I’m gonna get you!”
I threw my head back and laughed as Zoey chased the boys around the kitchen. Emma had come over for dinner and we were all gathered around the kitchen island trying to piece things together. The chicken was in the oven and the vegetables were roasting on the top rack, and Zoey proclaimed that she wanted cake for dessert.
And apparently, Emma could bake.
“Ryan, could you hand me the little bit of milk that’s left in that jug? We can replace what we don’t have with water and then add some sour c
ream and half and half to make it moist.”
Zoey chased the boys around the kitchen with milk on her hands as flour flew everywhere. I was covered in it. Zoey’s hair was dusted in it. The boys’ shirts had floured handprints all over them. But I didn’t care. This apartment had never felt more like home until this very moment. With Emma baking a cake and the kids running around chasing each other with the flour-and-milk mess on their fingers.
“Got you!”
Benjamin slapped his dirty hands on my back and I turned around. I chased him down the hallway, leaving footprints dusted in powdered sugar in my wake. Emma and Zoey were giggling and Hunter was hiding. Waiting for one of us to creep up on him so he could douse us with whatever he was holding. I picked Benjamin up and swung him around, listening as giggles fell from his lips.
Then, something splashed on the back of my legs.
“Got you!” Hunter exclaimed.
I looked back behind me as Benjamin wiggled from my grasp. I was soaked to the bone in water. I looked at Hunter as a broad smile crossed my face, then I chased him back down the hallway. Zoey was sitting on the kitchen island with Emma cracking eggs and stirring the cake mixture, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the sight. Emma, with her full-length summer dress and her bare little feet with her beautiful blonde hair pulled back, smiling at Zoey who wanted to change into a dress the second Emma had walked through the door.
She was teaching my niece how to bake a cake from scratch.
“Can I see?” Benjamin asked.
“Oh! Can I crack an egg?” Hunter asked.
“You’ll have to ask Miss Emma,” I said as I picked Hunter up in my arms.
I set the boys on the counter next to Zoey before I wrapped around to stand beside her.
“The key to making a cake is to measure out the ingredients well. Cooking is abstract, but baking is science. Chemical reactions are what cause these ingredients to become what they do underneath a certain temperature. A little too much or too little of either ingredient and the cake is ruined,” Emma said.
“Can I do something?” Benjamin asked.
“You want to stir? I need to mix the wet and dry ingredients, but I need someone to stir,” Emma said.
“Oh! Oh! Oh! Can I pour the wet stuff?” Hunter asked.
“Of course you can,” Emma said with a smile.
“What can I do?” Zoey said.
“Your job is the most important,” Emma said. “The wet ingredients have to be combined in three stages. So Hunter will pour, and you tell him when to stop. Do you know how much one third is?”
“No,” Zoey said.
“Okay. See this bowl of wet ingredients?” Emma asked.