Page 28 of A Simple Regret

Maren

I’m standing in front of the window, staring at the house beside mine. It’s snowing, and the freshly falling snow glistens, bright and pure. Theo loves the snow and has been begging to go out back and play in it. Now that we actually have a house and a yard—one that’s fenced in—we can go out and enjoy the snow with ease. No more packing him up in my car and heading to the park to play. We can do it from the comfort of our home. This is just one of the many pros to returning to Cooper Town and moving out of the city.

“Theo?”

He runs from the living room and appears in front of me.

“Wanna make cookies?”

He jumps up and down, his hands in the air in victory. “Yay! Cookies!”

The idea hit me earlier today as I stopped by the auto shop to pay for my parts. I couldn’t help but notice there were only two items indicated as mine, even though I’m pretty sure he changed the spark plugs too. I offered to pay the woman for those listed on his account too, but she said Camden indicated they were used on his truck, not my SUV, so she wouldn’t charge me for them. I handed over my debit card and watched as my bank account dropped by four hundred bucks. Not that I’m complaining. It’s the price of owning and maintaining a vehicle, but if it could have waited a few weeks, or even a few months, until I had built up a few more clients, that would have been much appreciated.

As I prepared to leave the shop, I admit, I looked for Camden through the window on the door that separated the shop from the office. I caught sight of him for the briefest moment, but he was gone in a flash.

Knowing what he did for me, despite our history and the anger he still carries with him, I spent the last few minutes of my lunch break grabbing the ingredients from the grocery store for cookies. Not just any cookies either. These are Camden’s favorite. Or at least they used to be. Honestly, I don’t know what he likes or doesn’t like anymore, and that brings a fresh tinge of sadness.

“I help?” Theo asks, pulling me from my own thoughts.

“Absolutely,” I inform him, picking him up and setting him on the counter. “We’re going to make homemade cookies with M&M’s in them.”

“Emmie Nems? I wove dose.”

I bop him on the tip of his nose. “I know you do. And when we’re done, we’re going to share them with Camden, okay? He helped me yesterday, by working on my car, so I want to say thank you by giving him some cookies.”

“Cam! He wikes cookies too?”

The truth is Camden has a massive sweet tooth. Not quite as bad as his brother, Cade, but he used to indulge in sweet treats as often as possible. We often shared cookies, ice cream, and whatever fresh baked goods his mom would make. Linda is the one who taught me how to make homemade cookies. Unfortunately, I’ve not made them since I was in high school. Break and bake were always so much quicker, and frankly, hurt a lot less to make.

“Stay still,” I instruct my three-year-old as I quickly preheat the oven and reach into the cabinet and retrieve the mixing bowl. Everything else is already on the counter, ready to go.

“Let’s start with mixing the butter, sugar, and brown sugar,” I tell him, measuring out the ingredients and placing them in the bowl. I don’t have a stand mixer, even though I’d love to own one. It’s never been in the budget, so I continue to use my trusty hand mixer, and it still works perfectly fine.

“I help?” he asks, reaching for the mixer.

“I’ll hold on to it, and you place your hand on mine.”

He does as instructed, and together we mix the butter and dry ingredients. Once they’re combined, I drop an egg and the vanilla extract into the bowl and follow it up with the remaining dry ingredients. I let Theo actually dump them in the bowl and smile when he manages to get a swipe of flour across his chin.

Finally, it’s time to add the mini chocolate chips and the M&M’s to the bowl. Theo’s eyes grow wide when I measure them out and hand him the cup. “Dump these in there, and then while the cookies bake, you can have a few M&M’s.”

He nods eagerly, doing as he’s told…at first. But just as I go to stir the sweets into the dough, he reaches in and snatches a blue M&M, giggling as he quickly shoves it in his mouth and smiles.

“Hey,” I say, my voice teasing. I’m unable to keep my own grin from transforming my mouth. Reaching over, I ruffle his shaggy blond hair and shake my head when he goes to steal a second.

“All right, let’s get these cookies going. After they cool, we’ll take some to Camden, and then you can have one for a snack. But after that, it’s bath and bed, Mister.”

He giggles. “And books?”

“Yes, I’ll read you one book tonight at bedtime,” I agree, grabbing the scoop and preparing to roll the balls of dough.

Once the first batch is on the tray, I move it to the oven and set the timer. “All right, while those bake, why don’t you run in and watch Bluey and I’ll clean up our mess.”

“Okay!” he says, taking off to the living room and sitting in his seat. He reaches for his cup of juice, bopping his head and completely enthralled in the episode, even if he’s seen it a dozen or more times.

I spend the next ten minutes cleaning the utensils, measuring cups, and spoons, and by the time the timer sounds, I have the counter about put back together. I forgot how much I love baking. I’ve rarely done it these last few years. Partly because money was a little tight once Theo came along, and the other part simply for the fact it reminded me of Linda. Everything I learned was from her and not my own mom.

I grew up with a mom who preferred easy, quick meals, usually from a box. And that was fine by me, because there was always food on the table and we never went hungry. We just didn’t share any time like this in the kitchen, preparing homecooked meals or baking sweet treats together.