Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Tory, wearing an oversized apron, watches me with wide eyes. “Wait, I do this?” She tries to press the dough with her palms and nearly sticks it to the table. “Oh no, it’s all sticky!”
Ranger laughs. “You’re just not used to getting your hands dirty, Princess.” She swats him with a flour-dusted hand, leaving a white print on his black T-shirt. He yelps, and we all laugh.
Next to them, Orion and Briar engage in a playful dough-throwing war. Briar flicks a pinch of flour at Orion, and he retaliates by tapping her nose with a sauce-dipped finger. “Hey, no fair!” she protests, though her laughter undercuts any real complaint.
Dean and Sophia, more subdued in their mischief, share a single piece of dough, shaping it together. Every so often, I see them pause to whisper or exchange a soft kiss. They look so content—married life suits them perfectly.
Garrett and Thor stand at the far side of the table, quietly following my steps, though Thor occasionally cracks a joke that makes Garrett roll his eyes. They’re an interesting duo—both laser-focused when they want to be, but also comfortable enough to banter.
Isabella, Dean’s sister, edges closer to me with a conspiratorial grin. “I’ve always wanted to know your secret sauce recipe. Dean raves about it.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Isabella’s come a long way since we first met—she used to be so guarded, but now she’s blossomed in her own right.
I wave a sauce-stained wooden spoon. “Oh, that’s top secret. But maybe, if you’re nice, I’ll let you watch me make it next time.”
She laughs. “Deal. Just let me handle a ladle or something.”
Boone stands near the dough mixer, arms folded, grinning like a proud conspirator. It’s obvious he’s enjoying this scene—everyone he cares about, all in one place, celebrating my birthday in the simplest, most meaningful way: making pizza.
At one point, my mother sidles up to me, eyes sparkling. She sets down a wine bottle on the metal counter. “I think it’s time we pop one of these open, don’t you?”
I glance at the label—some fancy red blend. “Ooh, yes. Let’s see if it pairs with mozzarella.”
She chuckles, rummaging in a drawer for a corkscrew. “I had no idea that boy was planning such a big surprise,” she muses. “But he’s obviously gone to great lengths to gather everyone.”
A wave of affection sweeps through me. “He’s wonderful,” I say softly, watching Boone lean over to help Tory flip her dough without wrecking it. “I never thought I’d find someone so… committed and sweet and protective, all at once.”
My mother smiles, patting my arm. “You deserve it, darling. And he deserves you.”
I help her open the wine, and soon enough, glasses are distributed. People sip, some swirl, others just dive in. The kitchen warms with laughter. The entire vibe is joyous, safe, and fun—completely different from the tension we all knew when Charles and Earl were looming threats.
It doesn’t take long for the pizzas to start emerging from the ovens, each one unique: some with extra pepperoni, some loaded with veggies, one with pineapple that Garrett rolls his eyes at. We set them on cooling racks, the air filling with the mouthwatering aroma of fresh dough, garlic, basil, melted cheese.
Ranger proclaims, “We’ve officially discovered the best way to celebrate a birthday. Screw cake, pizza is where it’s at.”
Tory bumps his hip. “We can have dessert pizza, too, you know?”
I grin. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve got a Nutella and strawberry recipe that’ll blow your mind.”
Boone, a glass of wine in hand, sidles up behind me, slipping an arm around my waist. “You realize the second you mention dessert pizza, these animals will never leave,” he teases, jerking his chin toward the group, who have already devoured half the first pizza.
“Well, that’s the point,” I reply, leaning into him. “If I never let them leave, this party never ends.”
He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. The simple gesture makes my pulse flutter. “Happy birthday, Brie-cheese,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my ear.
I groan, burying my face in Boone’s chest. He laughs, gently prying me away to address the group. “Aubree’s old nickname from high school was Brie-cheese. As in the cheese.”
Immediately, my mother giggles. “Yes, well, my daughter was obsessed with cheese on everything when she was younger, so a few friends started calling her that.”
Orion nearly chokes on his wine. “Oh, this is golden.” He raps a fist on the table. “Brie-cheese, indeed. She’s the pizza queen, it all comes full circle.”
Briar, eyes shining with amusement, points a tomato slice at me. “So, do we all get to call you Brie-cheese now?”
I shoot a mock glare at Boone. “No. Absolutely not.”
But Dean just laughs. “Too late, Brie-cheese.”
I throw my hands up in mock despair as everyone breaks into giggles or smirks. Boone slips an arm around me again, nuzzling my temple. “Sorry,” he mouths, though he looks anything but apologetic.