“It’s okay. I can do it.”
Addison shook her head. “Let me. It’ll be good practice. Babe, you want to give me a hand with this?”
Wordlessly, Mason stood up and shoved a handful of chips into his mouth. Together, the two of them stepped outside, with Charlotte following at a safe distance.
Outside, the weather was warm, and cicadas chirped in the distance. The scent of freshly cut grass and her great-grandmother’s rose bushes lingered in the air.
Charlotte stood under the porch light, eyeing the teenagers over the rim of her can. Addison approached them first, smiling and with her voice pitched low. A short while later, she gestured to Mason, who strolled over to them with a hand shoved in his pocket and an easy smile on his face.
She held her breath as they all stared at her friends.
One by one, they relaxed, and a heartbeat later, they were all laughing.
Charlotte’s mouth fell open as Addison and Mason ushered them back into the house, amidst a slew of praises and compliments. When they brushed past her, Charlotte snapped her mouth shut and twisted to see them join the rest of the group.
In a daze, Charlotte took another sip of her drink and frowned.
Was she the one who was missing out?
Was Savannah right about her being too afraid and getting in her own way?
That’s ridiculous. You’ve got a good job, a decent apartment that’s near your mom’s, and you’ve got good friends. What more could you possibly want?
Charlotte couldn’t tell for sure, but when she rejoined her family and found herself in a group with Addison and Mason, she could’ve sworn that what she really wanted was someone to laugh with.
An image of Patrick sprang to mind, but Charlotte immediately shoved it away.
All of Addison’s talk about babies and growing her family had gotten to her head, and she didn’t like it.
She didn’t like it one bit.
Chapter Five
She leaned forward to peer at the recipe book and frowned. “When the recipe says to taste, what does that actually mean?”
Her mom appeared next to her, a furrow between her brows. “Oh, I hate when they write that down. It just means based on preference.”
Charlotte straightened her back. “Yes, but what if I don’t have a preference? What if I’m making something for the first time, and I need detailed, step-by-step instructions?”
Her mom smiled and patted her back. “Well, that’s where I come in. Now, come here. Let me show you how to crack an egg.”
In one quick move, Emily tapped it against the counter and opened up the shell with precision and finesse. The yolk came sliding out and fell into the bowl. Then, she gestured to Charlotte, took her hand, and helped her stir.
“You can’t add all the ingredients at once,” Emily said, her hand moving steadily with hers. “Otherwise, it affects the taste.”
“But it all gets baked together anyway. What difference does it make?”
“You’ll know when you taste it.” Emily released Charlotte’s arm and motioned for her to continue. “I need to find the sifter, so keep stirring.”
“Or you could just use a cup to measure out the flour,” Charlotte joked under her breath. When she saw the withering look on her mother’s face, Charlotte lowered her head and whisked faster.
It felt good to be working with her hands, to spend a weekend with her mom in the kitchen rather than being cooped up in the auditorium. Again.
Maybe Savannah was right, and she shouldn’t have volunteered to work through the summer.
Without the kids there, the school was too quiet and lifeless, and there was only so much preparation she could do without her actual class.
And she dreaded the idea of being in her apartment again.
