The Misdelivered Secret Between Arthur and the Girl Next Door

someone shocked awake.

“Oh no.”

She grabbed oven mitts and pulled out two trays of cinnamon rolls.

The smell filled the room so fast my chest hurt.

Helen used to make cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning.

Never from a can.

Always from scratch.

She called them her “peace offering” because Brian and I argued every Christmas Eve about something foolish.

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