Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“Oh, we love Uncle Wyder,” the girls say in agreement.
I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, ladies. You each get a bowl,” I say, directing their attention back to me. Over the next hour or so, we manage to finally get the batter mixed up, minus eggshells. Luckily I had them crack the eggs into a small bowl so we could fish out any shells before dumping them into the batter. There’s batter on the counter and on their faces, but that doesn’t take away from their smile.
“Now what?” Harlow asks.
“Now, we pour the batter into the pan and place them in the oven. They have to bake for thirty-five minutes.”
“That’s a wong time.” Hayden’s eyes are wide.
“Not too long.”
“Girls, let's go get you washed up while Laken bakes the brownies.”
“Okay, Daddy,” they agree.
“Laken, make yourself at home. I’ll be back to help you clean up.”
“Oh…” I wave him off. “I’ve got it. It won’t take me long at all. Girls, thank you so much for your help. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“We’re good helpers!” Harlow exclaims.
“You are very good helpers.”
Grayson nods, and with one girl on each side holding his hand, he leads them down the hall to what I assume is the bathroom to get them cleaned up. I hear giggles floating down the hall as I wash the dishes, and I don’t need to look into a mirror to know I’m smiling. The happiness of those two little girls is infectious.
“I told you I would do that,” Grayson says from behind me.
I turn to look at him over my shoulder. He’s standing against the island, his arms crossed over his chest. I crushed on the teenage Grayson, and let’s just say age has been good to him. He’s even more gorgeous than he was way back then. “I don’t mind,” I reply, quickly turning back to the sink.
I feel him next to me, and a glance out of the corner of my eye confirms it. “I'll dry,” he says, taking a bowl from my hands and drying it with a dishtowel.
“Thanks. Where are the girls?”
“Double-checking their room.” He smiles and shakes his head. “I’ve never seen them clean so fast in my life.”
“Are they messy?”
“They’re four-year-old girls; yeah, they’re messy.” He chuckles.
“What? Four-year-old boys wouldn’t be messy?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugs. “I can’t talk about raising boys. I know that those two can tear up that room faster than I can blink an eye.”
“My nephew is five. To hear Leni tell it, he can do the same.” We’re quiet as I wash the final bowl and hand it to him. I reach for another towel to dry my hands and turn to face him. “They’re incredible little ladies, Grayson. You’re doing a great job with them.”
He nods. I watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Some days I wonder.”
“Well, don’t let today be one of them. They’re thriving and happy. You did that.” I place my hand on his arm, and I feel a jolt. My eyes immediately seek out his, and he’s looking at where I’m touching him. “Sorry,” I say and go to move away.
His hand covers mine before I can. “Thank you for today, Laken. Truly. The girls, they have my mom and—” He swallows hard. “—Holly’s, but there have been no women around their mom’s age in their lives. They’re taken with you, and you’re so good with them. I know you probably have better things to do than make brownies with my girls, but I’m grateful you did this for them.”
“It was my pleasure. I was making them anyway.”
“Yeah, but you could have done it a lot faster and cleaner.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a grin.
“Maybe, but it’s more about the memories.” The words are barely out of my mouth when the girls come racing into the kitchen. They don’t stop until they both have themselves wrapped around my legs like little monkeys.
“Waken, our woom is cwean,” The twin on my left smiles up at me. I think it’s Hayden. I still have trouble when they are this close. I can’t tell when they’re both this excited and from this angle, I can’t tell who is taller, which is my other tell at distinguishing which twin is talking.
“I’m so proud of you,” I praise them.
“Come see.” The twin on my right slides her hand in mine, her sister doing the same, and they pull me down the hall.
“Easy, girls!” Grayson calls out.
“They’re fine.” I chuckle as we stop at what I assume is their bedroom door. They lead me to a twin bed and tell me to sit, so I oblige. The next fifteen minutes are a flutter of showing me what feels like every toy that they own.
“Ladies, I think we need to check on our brownies.”
“Okay.”
“How about I go check on them while you put all of this away?” I suggest, looking at items strung out all over the floor.