Isaiah paused by the door. “What are you doing?” “I need to bake cookies. They’re our only hope.” He didn’t smile but the darkness in his eyes disappeared for a fraction of a second. “Save one for me?” For him, for what he’d done for me, I’d make cookies every day. Of course, I couldn’t say that. It was far too intimate and comforting for our fledgling marriage. Instead, I winked. “No promises.”
