Silas dumped a little more sugar than the recipe called for into the bowl. He was a scientist after all. He liked to experiment. And really, could something be too sweet? He laughed to himself a little as he reached for the week, mixing the sugar into the cranberries he’d already mashed up. He watched the contrast of the white mixing in with the red until they were all one.
With his finger, he tasted some of it and grinned. “Yep,” he murmured. “Just sweet enough.”
“Of course you are,” Corrin said, coming up behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist.
He grinned before bringing her hand up to his mouth and kissing her palm. “I think you’ve got that mixed up, Cor. You’re the sweet one around here.”
He could feel her tension as she stayed pressed against him, knew she was nervous about today. He wanted to throttle her father for ever making her doubt she’d be welcome–they would be–around her own family.
He turned toward her and pressed his lips to hers. When she pulled back, she was grinning. “That does taste sweet. What are you making?”
“Cranberry glaze for the chocolate cake I baked and frosted earlier. Think that will pay my entry into your family’s Christmas?”
Her face fell, and he knew the joke hadn’t hit its mark. He gathered her into his arms again. “I’m kidding. If anyone says a word, I won’t let them have even a sliver of the cake.”
She let out a soft huff of laughter, though it might have been closer to a sob. They’d been together, all three of them, for over a year and a half now. Eventually her father, and some other extended family members, would have to accept this was a forever situation.
“Jeremiah should be home anytime,” she said. “I thought he would have been already.”
“He called me while you were in writing. He decided to stop at Kayla and Adrian’s on his way home.”
“We’re going to be seeing them tomorrow before we head over to your parents’. Why’s he stop now.”
“Something about last minute gifts he needed to wrap without us seeing. You know how he is.”
“Sweet,” she said, smiling at him. He liked seeing that smile. It was better than the pinched, worried look whenever her father made a comment about their non-traditional relationship. “Just like you. I’m going to get a shower and change before he gets here.”
He watched her moved off toward the bathroom, swallowed the urge to follow her, and turned back to his preparations. She usually wanted to be alone to compose herself before they headed to see her family. And he needed to finish up this cake and have it ready to go before they needed to head out.
And if any of her family gave her a hard time, he’d do more than not allow them a piece of his cake. They’d been through enough to be together. It was time her family accepted them just as they were.
If they couldn’t, maybe they didn’t deserve a place in Corrin’s life anymore.
Today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt was to use “contrast”. This is part of a Christmas short I started writing this week using a prompt from a Patreon I subscribe to. Cranberries is part of that prompt(I worked one of the other words into another scene–with Jeremiah–) and still have one more word to work in, which will probably be in a scene from Corrin’s POV. I’m hoping to have it up on my Patreon page sometime in the coming week.