“There’s been a change of plans. Heath can’t make it, so I’m solo tonight.” He grins and he notices the flour and oil. “You’re going to make homemade pizza?” His eyes light up. “I haven’t had homemade pizza in forever.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Me either,” I say and brush past him to find the rest of the ingredients I’ll need to make the dough. “I hope you have yeast here,” I say.

“What?” he asks.

“Yeast. I need yeast for the dough.” I open the pantry and immediately find all of the baking supplies. You can tell my aunt is in charge of food shopping and organizing the pantry; it makes it easy to find things. “Here it is,” I say and swipe the small packet from a plastic bin on the shelf.

He raises his hands in the air and says, “I’m no good here. This is all you. But you really don’t have to make me anything. I can order something.”

Everything else I need is within reach, and I have the ingredients arranged on the center island, ready for me.

“Where’s Kai?” he asks.

“In there. Asleep.” I motion toward the den and pick up my phone. He’s watching me with amusement as I re-read the recipe. I open the flour, measure out what’s needed for the dough, and dump it into the stainless steel bowl in front of me.

“How was he today?” he asks.

I look up and swipe my hand across my forehead. I should have put my hair up.

“His day was okay,” I say and dump the rest of the ingredients into the bowl.

“Just okay?” He looks disappointed. “Where’s Nadia?” he asks, and I look up again. A large curl has fallen in front of my face, partially blocking my view of him. I attempt to brush it away and at the same time get the flour mixture on myself. His smile grows and he takes a couple of steps toward me.

“She had to cancel tonight,” I say and tense up as he gets closer. Why is he looking at me like that? “And Kai had his ups and downs.”

“You’ve got… something on your face.” He grins as he reaches out. He softly brushes the flour from my face, and I feel like I’m swaying in place.

“Th—thanks,” I stammer as he tucks the nuisance curl behind my ear. His hand lingers for a moment and then he steps away.

“I think I should help,” he says. “You’re a bit of a mess already.”

“Why don’t you grate the cheese? There’s a brick of mozzarella inside the top drawer in the refrigerator.” I assemble the hand mixer and plug it in.

“Do I have a cheese grater?” he asks, and I try to stifle a giggle.

“You really don’t spend much time in your own kitchen, do you?” I ask.

“I’m in here all the time. I just don’t know where anything is. Your aunt makes sure I don’t have to worry about any of that.” He seems embarrassed and drops his head.

I tap the drawer next to me. “Cheese grater’s in here. It’s a flat, rectangular, metal thingy,” I say, just in case he’s never seen one before.

“I know what a cheese grater looks like, Sam. I just didn’t realize I had one.” He brushes past me and opens the drawer. “See.” He points. “It’s right there.” He’s standing next to me and starts his chore. I smirk as I turn on the mixer. His elbow bumps into mine as he’s working, but I don’t move.

“Sorry,” he says, and I look over at him. Now he’s grinning, and I know that I didn’t really hurt his feelings. I bump my elbow into his on purpose and he smiles. He’s feverishly grating the cheese, and soon a large pile is on the plate in front of him.

“Enough?” he asks, and I nod. He brushes up against my side and peeks into bowl. “That doesn’t look like much dough,” he says.

“That’s what the yeast is for,” I reply and dump the packet into the mixture. “Once this is all blended together, the dough will begin to rise. It should take about an hour and then we’ll be able to make our pizza.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Our pizza?”

“I’m not putting all of this effort into something not to get anything out of it,” I say and bump my hip into his. What am I doing?

“Really?” he says and turns to wash his hands in the sink. “I guess that seems fair enough.”

“What do you want on top?” I ask.

“What?” he chokes out.

“Toppings? What do you want on top of your pizza?” Oh my God. My cheeks are burning as I stretch plastic wrap over the bowl.

“Oh.” He pauses. “I’m good with just cheese and sauce.”

“Me too,” I say. My hands are covered in flour, so I join him at the sink. “Can you leave the water on?”

“Sure,” he says, and I place my hands under the warm stream.

“Too hot?” he asks.

“No, it’s just right.”

He squeezes soap into my hands, and I rub them together, building up the lather and scrubbing off the flour that’s caked on. “Thanks,” I say. Our shoulders are touching. He remains next to me as I finish washing up. He turns off the water and places a towel over my wet hands, his strong grip patting and squeezing my hands dry. My knees are weak, and I swear his hands are the only thing keeping me upright at the moment.

“Dry?” he asks hoarsely. I look into his eyes and nod slowly. His hands remain wrapped around mine, but I don’t want to pull them away.

Suddenly Kai cries sharply from the den and I jump. Garrett drops the towel and we both rush in to calm him. Kai’s lying on his back, and his arms and legs are outstretched. His screams grab me in the chest and I lift him up. “It’s okay,” I whisper as his body tenses against mine. I rhythmically pat his back and bounce him in my arms.

“What can I do?” Garrett asks helplessly.

“Can you fix him a bottle?”

“Yes,” he says and takes off into the kitchen. Kai continues to wail and throws his head back violently.

“Hey. Shhh,” I whisper against his temple, kissing him gently. I begin to hum and cradle the back of his head, gently pushing him against my shoulder. Garrett is back within a few minutes and I sit down in the recliner.

“Here.” Garrett hands me the bottle and I shift Kai into a comfortable feeding position. As soon as I put the bottle to his lips, he takes it and begins to eat. But within seconds, he’s screaming and arching his back again. My heart is breaking for him, and Garrett kneels down on the floor beside us. His hand replaces mine on the back of Kai’s head, and he slowly massages his scalp.

Garrett looks like he’s being sliced in two by his son’s cries. His brows are furrowed and he’s stiff and tense. Worried. “Keep doing that,” I urge him. “I think that will help.” Kai’s cries slow to whimpers, and I let him calm some more before I offer the bottle again.

“How can he be so good some days and others like this?” Garrett asks softly. “I just don’t understand.” He looks into my eyes, hoping for answers.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I wish I knew.”

He nods and his hand drops to my knee. “He stopped,” he says.

I place the bottle against Kai’s lips and he begins eating, this time uninterrupted. Garrett exhales and so do I.

Garrett’s pain is tangible. I wish I could make it go away along with Kai’s pain. We’ll get there, eventually. I look down at Kai, who is now eating comfortably.

I remove the bottle and place Kai on my shoulder to burp him, which he quickly does. Garrett’s warm hand remains on my knee as I begin feeding Kai again. Garrett seems to notice his contact with me and slowly pulls his hand away. “Sorry,” he whispers and moves over to the couch. He sits there, helpless. Almost defeated.

“He’s getting better,” I encourage. “Today’s just been a really rough day. His senses seem overly heightened causing everything to bother him.”

Garrett nods slowly and I’m not sure he believes me.

Kai finishes his bottle and I’ve burped him one last time. He’s sound asleep, so I place him in his bouncy seat and strap him in. Garrett’s hand brushes mine as he covers Kai with the soft fleece blanket that was on the chair. I pull away and stand up.