RILEY.
I stand in the kitchen with my mother as we bake gingerbread men. The past four days have been filled with baking preparations for when the kids arrive. So far, we have made trifle, Christmas pudding, cookies, mince pies, and now, gingerbread men.
When she places the baking tray in the oven, she turns to me and says, “That’s the last batch. Why don’t you see if your father needs help with the tree?”
I shake my head with a smile. She has been trying to keep me busy, but honestly, I haven’t needed it. I’ve been really happy just being around her and Dad; not once have I felt upset.
As I make my way to the living room, the doorbell rings, making me turn back. It’s probably Jackson; he and Alec are coming today. But I’m not going to dwell on that. I already told him before I left, s
