Alessia Mancini
Riley and Chef Lorenzo were bent over the kitchen island, flour dusting their clothes and smudged across Riley's cheek. The warm glow of the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting everything in a golden light that felt almost surreal given the circumstances.
"Oooh, are those your Nonna's cookies, Riles?" I asked, plastering on a smile that I hoped looked genuine.
Riley's head snapped up, her face breaking into a wide grin. "Alex! Perfect timing. We're just about to put the first batch in the oven."
As I stepped further into the kitchen, the scent of butter and sugar enveloped me. It was achingly familiar, a reminder of simpler times when our biggest worry was whether the cookies would turn out right.
Chef Lorenzo's eyes crinkled with warmth as he looked up
