Page 89 of Cooking Up My Comeback

She touches the pendant gently, taking a shaky breath.

“I love it,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

“What about us?” Mason demands. “Did Build-It Man bring us presents too?”

I laugh, grateful for the interruption. “Of course I did.”

I pull out small boxes for all the kids. “Junior contractor toolkits. Real tools, but kid-sized.”

“Real tools?” Mason shrieks.

“With supervision,” Amber says quickly, but she’s smiling.

“This is so cool,” Crew says, examining his level with intensity. “Look, it has an actual bubble!”

“Now you can help with projects properly,” I tell them. “If that’s okay with your parents.”

“More than okay,” Amber says. The way she’s looking at me makes my chest tight.

Ellen hugs her pink hammer to her chest. “I’m going to build a castle!”

“We can build whatever you want.”

And I mean it. I want to build things with these kids. Maybe a treehouse if Amber’s got a good tree for it. Race car tracks in the driveway. Blanket forts that take up the entire living room. I want to teach them how to measure twice and cut once, how to sand with the grain, how to take pride in making something with their hands.

I want to build a life with their mom.

“Thank you,” Amber says softly, reaching for my hand. “For all of this.For being here.”

“Thank you for letting me be here.”

They didn’t have to include me. Amber didn’t have to risk her kids’ hearts on a new person. But they did, and I won’t take that trust lightly.

Later, as we clean up and the kids play with their new tools under careful supervision, I catch myself thinking about next Christmas. And the one after that. Birthday parties and school plays and little league games.

Being the guy these kids can count on.

“You okay?” Amber asks, appearing beside me with a dish towel.

“Yeah,” I say, meaning it completely. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

She smiles that soft, secret smile that makes my heart forget how to beat properly.

“Good,” she says. “Because we’re not going anywhere.”

Neither am I, I think. Neither am I.

Just then, my phone buzzes. I consider ignoring it, but Amber nods toward my pocket.

“Could be important.”

I pull it out, seeMomwith a video call request, and consider dropping it in the sink.

“It’s my mother.”

“Answer it,” Amber says, drying her hands on a dish towel while Hazel starts loading the dishwasher behind us. “I’ll finish here.”

I swipe to accept, turning slightly away from the chaos.