Page 61 of Icing on Top

His grin was boyish and painfully adorable. I snuck a glance toward the doorway, pausing long enough to listen for any hint of movement from Charlie or Wes in the direction of the kitchen. Confident there’d be no interruption, I returned my attention to Miah and leaned up on my toes to give him a proper kiss. Unlike me, he had no hesitations and wrapped me up in both arms now, holding me gently, but securely. Moments like these would be limited the next week or so as we attended our respective family events, so we had to steal them wherever we could.

“But seriously”—I pulled back—“please keep the sugar on the gingerbread. We don’t need the entire counter to be snow-covered.”

Miah let out a dramatic sigh, his arms growing slack around me. “Fine, fine.”

“And you say you feel like you’ve got two kids. I think I’m dealing with three.”

Sticking his tongue out at me did not help his case, but it did make the both of us laugh. Despite his reassurances, I still supervised as he carefully dusted confectioner’s sugar over the house. It ended up looking like a cozy, candy cabin after a fresh powdering of snow. In other words, it was perfect.

I patted Miah’s bicep as I smiled up at him. “Proud of you.”

He beamed as if I’d just given him a gold star.

After cleaning up, Miah carried our gingerbread house into the dining room for the voting. Wes and Charlie looked to be finishing up the last touches to theirs, placing peppermints around the base.

“Why is there a ghost wearing a Santa hat in the window?” Miah questioned.

Wes stood taller. “We decided to embrace our wonky, tilting walls and make it a haunted house at Christmas time. Ghosts celebrate the holidays, too, you know.”

“I love it.” I smiled at Charlie. “Very creative.”

“We won, then, right?” Wes looked hopefully around the dining room.

I had to hand it to them; they’d made the most out of a dire situation. I could only imagine what Miah’s would have looked like if he’d had to do it on his own or, God forbid, with Wes. There was a reason the boys hadn’t let Charlie and I team up.

“I say it’s a tie,” Charlie decided. “Daddy and Zoe’s is pretty, but Uncle Wes and I thought outside the box.”

While Wes didn’t seem keen on the idea of there not being a definitive winner, none of us were going to say no to Charlie.

Miah wrapped his arm around her small shoulders. “Great idea, Tot. A tie it is.”

“Jay, I’m stealing your girlfriend,” Wes announced.

Miah paused mid-step on his way to the living room and turned slowly. “Why?” he asked, his suspicion clear.

“Figured I’d make struffoli today since I’ve got the best sous chef I could ask for.” Wes playfully nudged me with his elbow and then cupped his hands around his mouth. “No offense, Charmander!”

If she was able to hear him over the Christmas movie she’d picked out, she didn’t bother with a response.

Miah’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of us, clearly hesitant. Maybe because he’d be leaving me alone with the person who had all the dirt on him. Or maybe he worried that Wes would end up grilling me. Not that I would blame him. It would make sense for him to do a little interrogating of the newest person in Miah and Charlie’s lives.

Either way, I was confident that the two of us would be fine.

Miah’s hazel eyes met mine, his brows lifting up questioningly. I walked over and leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Don’t worry. I’ll sneak you some,” I promised with a conspiratorial wink.

That at least made him smile.

“Charlie and I will be wrapping presents for my parents, if you need us.”

He gave me a small peck before disappearing into the living room. I joined Wes at the kitchen counter, looking over all the ingredients he had laid out.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve never heard of struffoli.”

“It’s a traditional Italian cookie. Just little balls of fried dough soaked in honey,” he explained, a nostalgic look in his eyes as he adjusted the bowl on the counter. “My nonna used to make large batches of it at Christmastime, and when she passed, it became my job.”

My heart warmed; whether it was an excuse to get me alone or not, I was grateful he was allowing me to assist him with such an important tradition.