7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

LAILA

T he only time I’ve ever seen a kitchen this messy is Holden’s commercial kitchen when we got into a food fight.

Flour dusts almost every available surface available, and cookies, frosting and candy over run our kitchen table.

Henry is standing in his chair, enthusiastically squeezing frosting onto every available square inch of gingerbread he can see. Luna is bent over her gingerbread house, tongue between her teeth as she frames windows and doors.

“She’s really serious about this,” I say to Holden, popping a gumdrop into my mouth.

“Mommy steal!” Henry gasps, dropping his frosting and pointing a chubby finger at me. “Give me. My turn.”

“It’s the Mommy tax,” I insist, grabbing yet another.

“Caught red-handed.” Holden laughs.

“I want one!” Henry squeals excitedly. “Blue!”

“It’s kind of late, should I let him have one?” I keep expecting my non-motherhood experience is going to out me, but Holden just gives me occasional funny looks instead.

“I think after the day they’ve had it will be fine.”

“One,” I caution, holding up a finger for extra emphasis.

Henry giggles and grabs three. I’m too blissfully happy and fulfilled to care.

“We’ve got a structural problem on house four.” Holden makes an explosion sound as a whole side of his house falls. “I’m out of the running, I guess.”

“Well, if someone would stop eating all the support beams…”

“Hearsay.” He slaps a hand on the table with a wide smile.

“I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

Luna lets out an exaggerated huff. “If you two are going to be silly, will you please go somewhere else? You’re ruining my Christmas lights.”

I’ve never heard such a well-spoken four-year-old in my life. I also don’t think I’ve been admonished by a child before.

“Daddy is sorry—no more table slapping. Your lights are beautiful.”

She pauses to flash him a smile, then goes back to her work. “Mommy keeps bumping the table, too.”

I drop my mouth open and hold my hands up in mock surrender. “I will make sure to not touch the table. Right after, I see if I can fix this wall.”

Holden leans close to me. “You bought the strawberry candy canes, Laila. You can’t expect me to exercise self-control when you buy the strawberry ones.”

I have one memory of strawberry candy canes, and I find it hard to believe that we’re referencing the same thing.

“What’s the big deal about strawberry candy canes?” I ask, feigning nonchalance.

He’s made a mess of his gingerbread house, probably to lose to our children because Holden is the king of gingerbread houses , and I have to really lean in to see if there’s any saving his destruction.

There’s no reason to be taking it this seriously, except that this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.

“You’re joking, right?” he says.

I blindly reach for the nearest tube. “No.”

Maybe I can squeeze a bunch of frosting between the candy cane in question—which isn’t tall enough to offer support—and close the gap.

“You bought them for me the weekend we got engaged.”

I jerk in surprise, squeezing the tube, which is aimed right at my face.

Holden’s laughter rumbles through the room, soon to be joined by our children.

“Gingerbread man!” Henry squeals. “Gumdrop buttons.”

“You said we couldn’t put frosting on our face,” Luna says with a small giggle. “You look silly, Mommy.”

“That’s why we check the frosting tube before we squeeze,” I reply. “How bad is it, Holden?”

His face is red from holding in his laughter. “Hold still, okay?”

“Frozen like a statue.”

“Let it gooooooo!” Henry howls.

“How am I supposed to work in this?” Luna says, dropping her frosting.

Holden and I both burst into laughter. Without thinking, I swipe frosting off my face and drag my finger down his cheek.

His eyes widen in surprise. “That, ma’am, was a declaration of war.”

Holden grabs a glob of frosting, smearing it across the bridge of my nose before I can dodge out of his way. I gasp, a mix of indignation and amusement, and reach for the bowl of sprinkles.

“You wouldn’t dare.” His voice is low, equally a challenge and a question. Laughter dances in his eyes as he shoves to his feet.

“I might.” I challenge, cradling the bowl, one hand already full of sprinkles.

Suddenly everyone is out of their chairs and it’s a full out war.

Luna and Henry shriek and giggle as we weave and circle between our poor table and the kitchen island. Holden darts one way and then the other to prevent me from getting me. I act like I’m lunging to the left and he goes to the left, but I’m quicker.

With a wicked laugh, I launch the sprinkles in the air, creating a short-lived sprinkle rainstorm in our kitchen.

“Alright. Laila.” This time it’s his hands up in a mock surrender. “You win.”

I smirk and set the bowl on the table. “Triumph is mine!”

But right as I reach for a paper towel, I hear the unmistakable sound of graham crackers crunching in his hands.

“Don’t you do it, Holden!” I squeal, covering my head as I turn to see him, grinning mischievously.

He takes one step toward me, then two. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, honey.”

“Please don’t, I’m begging you!” I can hardly breathe from laughing so hard as he backs me into a corner.

The distance is closing between us and I’m trapped. Then a handful of graham crackers showers over my head and I close my eyes to avoid a painful crumb disaster.

“I can’t believe you did that!” I exclaim, breathless and laughing.

He steps back, grinning. “Doesn’t Mommy look beautiful?”

The kids cheer, and my heart hammers in my chest.

“That’s going to take forever to get out of my hair.”

He shrugs. “We have a tankless hot water heater. You’ve got as long as you need.”

“In that case,” I reply, lunging to grab the bowl of powdered sugar. Lightning quick, I toss a handful in his direction, coating him in a fine dusting of white.

The next few minutes descend into absolute chaos. I’ve got no clue how we’ll get this place clean, and I’m sure we’ll be finding sprinkles and gumdrops and crumbs for weeks. Different ingredients fly across the room as we all laugh until our sides hurt. Holden grabs me around the waist at one point, swinging me around to our screaming children's delight, and this is another moment I wish he could paint so I could carry it with me forever. I could just pull it out and look at it whenever I want to remember some of the best moments of my life.

When he sets me down, I lose my balance and pitch forward onto his chest. Food fights shouldn’t be sexy, but who am I kidding? Holden has never looked as attractive as he does right now, standing in our family kitchen, with Henry singing random songs in the background, and absolutely covered in food.

“You’ve got a little something—” He swipes a thumb across my cheek, then pauses.

“So do you,” I whisper.

The air feels so charged I’d be afraid to light a candle.

His eyes drop to my lips, hovering for a moment before he’s gazing into my eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, La. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“This blue frosting really brings out my eyes.” I bat my lashes playfully.

“You should wear it more often.”

“The powdered sugar really does wonderful things for you, too.”

It’s something to know that this version of Holden has seen me for the better part of six years. I’m unsure of the timeline here. But he looks at me the same way he does when we haven’t seen each other in a year.

“Stop talking, La,” he grins as he leans closer.

Luna giggles uncontrollably as Holden kisses me, and I have to admit, the teenage version of me does too.