One More Batch Of Cookies

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We're nearing the end...

Thomas' POV:

I haven't exactly been well, lately. The years are taking their toll. I'm 83 now, Alex a bit younger. Mary and Theodosia never officially adopted any of their foster kids, but they are still in contact with a boy who might as well be their son. They live in New York as well and visit often.

Alex and I retired over 10 years ago. We passed on the business to a strong-minded lady that I'm sure will keep the Washingtons' company thriving. If it weren't for Alex, I don't think I would've cared so much, but he was so close to Mr. Washington, and when Alex cares, I care.

So, right now, while he's whining about wanting chocolate chip cookies, I'm making them. "Are you ever going to get that dough finished?" He complains while sitting in a chair doing nothing to help. "I've been waiting so long I might as well be on bedrest!"

I scoff, mixing in a considerable amount of chocolate chips. "Alex darling, the day you go on bedrest is the day I have a New York accent," I respond. He grumbles something but I ignore him, scooping up lumps of dough and plopping them on a cookie sheet. "They just have to bake and cool, then you can eat them."

"Cool?" Alex scoffs. "I'll eat them fresh out of the oven and I won't even flinch."

I put the cookie sheet into the oven, lowering myself slowly into the chair next to him. My back isn't what it used to be. "You're not 25 anymore, dumbass," I remind him. "You'll burn yourself, then blame me for not telling you the cookies were hot!"

Alex jumps to defend himself, crying, "I will not!" I give him a disbelieving look and he crosses his arms stubbornly. "Just because I did it last week with the soup doesn't mean I'll do the same now! How was I supposed to know the soup had just stopped boiling? I didn't watch you make it, I was watching Moana!"

I laugh weakly, reaching for his hand and entwining our wrinkled fingers. A lot about us has changed, but Alex's hand still fits perfectly in mine. "Stop denying it, darling." I lean over the gap between our chairs and kiss his cheek as he pouts. "They barely take 5 minutes to cool enough for safe eating." Alex huffs, but I can see the smile he's trying to hide. He stands up slowly, with difficulty, and lowers himself into my lap. "I'm too old for this," I complain, but wrap my arms around him.

Alex chuckles but leans against my chest. "You'll never be old enough to escape this," he insists. I kiss him gently and he grins. "We're soulmates," he reminds me, "you can't get away from me."

I kiss him again, ignoring the 1-minute warning for the cookies. "That's fine by me," I murmur fondly, smiling at my beautiful husband. "I'd never want to."

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