something up, and the oven is beeping, alerting us that it is up to temperature. “Who’s ready to feed me?” I ask. I can’t help but laugh as I take in the picture before me. I slip my phone out of my pocket and snap a couple of pictures of my girls together. Paisley has probably as much flour on her as the bowl does. But the smiles on their faces as they measure and bake together hit me straight in the chest.
“We don’t have anything for you, yet, but just be patient,” Lindsay tells me, looking up and flashing me a smile.
“Can I do anything to help?” I offer.
“Not yet. We’re still mixing everything together. Maybe once we’re ready to scoop, you can help.”
“Okay,” I agree and pull out a stool to sit down on at the counter. I just watch Lindsay and Paisley and how easily they work together. A stranger looking in the windows would never know that they weren’t mother and daughter. That we were not the happy, perfect, little American family. Lindsay might not be Paisley’s mom, but this is the family I want, the one I need in my life. The momentum of that reality hits me square in the heart. I’ve known I love this woman for weeks now; I’ve told her that as many times as I could since that first time. I’ve known that we were definitely working our way toward these serious conversations. Marriage, kids, life, moving in together, but I didn’t realize that they could happen so quickly. But in this exact instance, this moment is one of clarity. I want this, all of it and more.
Even with the epiphany, I know that trying to pull off a proposal for Christmas isn’t in the cards. I need time to plan the perfect proposal, shop for the perfect ring, and, most importantly, have a little chat with Lindsay’s parents and with Paisley. I know she loves Lindsay, but I need to make sure my daughter is truly okay with me marrying someone. I know that it seems weird that I’d run something like that past my five-year-old, but this is her life, too, and I need to know that she’s just as happy with things as I am.
“Earth to Tucker.” Lindsay waves a hand in front of my face. “You okay?” she asks, the worry evident in the crease of her brow.
“Yeah.” I shake my head, as if that could jar the plans already spinning in my mind.
“Did you want a bite of the cookie dough?” she asks, holding up a spoon.
“Of course. Isn’t that the best part?” I ask.
Lindsay scoops out a spoonful of the dough and hands it over. “Mhmm, this is good!” I tell them as I eat it. Lindsay helps Paisley with a scoop as she plunks down balls of the dough on a cookie sheet. Lindsay must have brought a few things over, since I don’t recognize many of these items, and I know for sure I didn’t have some of them.
“Need any help?” I offer it again.
“I think we’ve got it, for now.”
“Okay.” I’m content just sitting back and watching the two of them work together. I sneak a few more candid pictures of them together, Lindsay wiping some flour off of Paisley's cheek, the two of them looking in the window at the cookies as they bake.
“Daddy, can I have a cookie when they are done?” Paisley asks as the timer ticks down.
“Maybe once they cool. If you try to eat one right away, it might burn your mouth.”
“How about we have some with a glass of milk once they cool,” Lindsay suggests.
“Yes!” Paisley cheers. She hops off the stool she was on so she could help. Now that they have a sheet of cookies in the oven and the second sheet all scooped and ready to go in, so doesn’t have anything to keep her busy. Lindsay, on the other hand, keeps busy as she starts to bustle around, cleaning up and putting things away.
“Are you just making the one kind today?” I ask, sneaking another bite of dough.
“I wanted to make another batch, but we’ll see how we’re doing on time. I don’t want to be baking all day and miss the movie,” Lindsay says.
“Sounds good, sure there isn’t anything I can help with?” I ask, coming around the counter and pressing against Lindsay’s back as she stands at the kitchen sink. Her little apron tied in the back, bare feet