Page 32 of Cooking Up My Comeback (Twin Waves #1)

Relief floods through me as I move behind her chair. My fingers fumble with the tiny clasp. Her hair smells like vanilla and something floral that makes me dizzy.

“There,” I manage.

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, see Mom with 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.

“Hey, Mom.”

“There’s my boy!” Mom’s face fills the screen, bright smile and knowing eyes. She’s in her sunroom back in North Georgia, surrounded by plants that somehow thrive despite her notorious black thumb. “How are you, honey?”

“Good. Fine. Just having dinner with?—”

“Turn that camera around right now,” she interrupts. “I want to see where you’re hiding.”

“Mom, I’m not hiding?—”

“Camera. Around. Now.”

I close my eyes, send up a quick prayer to whatever deity protects grown men from embarrassing mothers, and slowly turn the phone.

Amber looks up from the sink, soap bubbles on her hands, and waves with a polite smile.

Mom’s face lights up like Christmas morning.

“Oh, honey, she’s beautiful! You didn’t tell me she was beautiful!”

I want to disappear into the floor.

“Mom—”

“Is this the business partner you’re not falling for?”

“We’re not—it’s complicated?—”

“Nothing complicated about it,” Mom says with the confidence of a woman who’s raised three sons and seen them all try to lie about their feelings. “I can see it all over your face.”

From the living room, Tally’s voice carries: “Tell her I approve! But she better bring good snacks when she visits!”

My mother’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, I like her already. Smart girl.”

“You’re not visiting,” I say quickly.

“Oh, but I am. I just got off the phone with Marla Edgewood—you remember Marla—and she told me those Keith boys are getting married left and right. Something in the water here makes men settle down.”

I’m dying. Actually dying.

“I’m driving up for New Year’s. Pack an extra blanket for the guest room.”

Amber is trying very hard not to laugh, but her shoulders are shaking.

“Mom, you can’t just?—”

“I absolutely can. I’m your mother. It’s my job to embarrass you and check out the girl who’s got you looking like a lovesick teenager.”

“I don’t look?—”

“Honey,” she says gently, “you look happy. Happier than I’ve seen you in years. Don’t you dare mess this up.”

The call ends. I stare at the black screen.

“She seems lovely,” Amber says, not quite managing to keep the laughter out of her voice .

“She’s a menace.”

“She loves you.”

“She’s going to terrorize you next weekend.”

“I can handle it.” Amber dries her hands, steps closer. “Besides, I want to meet the woman who raised you.”

Something in my chest loosens. The idea that she wants to meet my mom. That she’s thinking about next weekend like we’ll still be... whatever this is.

“Want to sit on the porch for a few minutes?” she asks. “The kids will be distracted for at least an hour.”

We step outside into the soft evening air. December in coastal North Carolina is unpredictable—today it’s warm enough for just a sweater, with a gentle breeze carrying the salt smell from the ocean. The porch swing creaks as we settle onto it. I can hear distant waves beyond the dunes.

Amber leans into my side, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. She fits perfectly.

“I don’t know what’s happening between us,” she says quietly.

“Me neither,” I admit. “But I want to find out.”

She tilts her head to look at me. “Even with all the chaos? The kids, the mess, the ex who shows up whenever he feels like playing dad?”

“Especially with all that.”

Because it’s true. The chaos doesn’t scare me. Her kids don’t feel like obstacles—they feel like the best parts of her, walking around outside her body.

“You know what gets me?” I say softly.

“What?”

“The way they just... included me. No questions, no hesitation. Mason handed me a spoon like I belonged there. Crew explained his ingredient theories like my opinion mattered. Even Tally’s sass felt like acceptance.”

Amber’s quiet for a moment. “They don’t get a lot of that. Adult men who stick around long enough to care about their theories.”

“Their dad’s missing out.”

“He is. But that’s their reality. So when you show up and listens to Crew’s explanations or asks Mason about his dinosaurs... it matters.”

I think about Crew’s face when I called his level cool. Mason’s excitement about his tools. The way they both assumed I’d want to see their treasures.

“I want them to know they matter,” I say. “All of them. Including their mom.”

She turns to look at me. “Brett...”

“I know it’s fast. I know it’s complicated. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“Like I could love this. Love them. Love you.”

The words hang in the air between us, honest and terrifying.

“That scares me,” she whispers.

“Me too.”

I reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, let my fingers linger on her cheek.

The kiss is soft. Gentle. Just our lips touching, no urgency, no demand. Just enough to say I’m here. I see you. This matters.

When we pull apart, she’s smiling.

“That was nice,” she whispers.

“Yeah. It was.”

As we sit there in the gathering dusk, her head on my shoulder and the sound of her kids’ laughter drifting through the screen door, I can’t shake the feeling that this is moving fast. Maybe we’re both falling into something we’re not ready for.

But then I think about Mason calling me Build-It Man like it’s my superhero name. Crew trusting me with his serious observations. Tally teasing me about liking her mom.

I’m not sure I can be what they need.

But what if loving them is exactly enough?