I blink. “You saw it?”
He taps the side of his nose with a gloved finger. “I see a lot. Including unresolved destiny. And I loathe unresolved destiny.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he suddenly glances toward the kitchen door where Emery is very clearly leaning against the wall, eavesdropping.
“She’s stubborn,” he calls out.
“Like a mule,” Emery shouts back.
“And proud,” he adds, smiling.
“Like a cat.”
“And maybe a little scared of being left.”
“Like a woman who’s been burned before.”
“Hey!” I snap. “I’m right here!”
He turns back to me with a softer look.
“Understood. Leave it with me.”
“Wait—what are you going to do?” I ask, instantly wary.
“Something meddlesome and delightful,” he replies with a grin that makes me deeply nervous. “Now, I suggest you get back to frosting. My dear friend and housekeeper, Richard, will be by this afternoon to collect everything for the gala. And you, my dear, I will see at the party.”
He twinkles again—literally this time, as a soft shimmer of silver dust trails after him as he sweeps out the door like he’s got a direct hotline to the cosmos.
I exhale, watching him go, my heart doing all sorts of messy things I don’t have time for.
Emery returns, passing me a fresh piping bag like we’re at war and our only weapons are buttercream and blind faith.
“So?” she asks.
“So,” I sigh, turning back to the tray. “I frost. We box. And tonight, maybe I go to the party and meet Prince Charming. Or maybe I come home and cry into a tin of rum balls. But for now? We work.”
“Copy that, boss,” she says, and we get back to it—frosting cookies, pretending we’re not quietly hoping for magic, and trying to ignore the ache of unanswered questions.
For now.
Chapter 15
Eb
She’s not answering.
Again.
I glance down at my phone.
That’s three calls and two texts in the last hour—zero response.
All I’m getting is her voicemail, that sweet voice I was dying to hear last night now taunting me with a sterile “Leave a message” while I sit here stewing in the world’s most uncomfortable chair.
I scrub a hand over my face, sighing hard.
The fluorescent lights overhead are giving me a headache, and the antiseptic scent clinging to my clothes is doing nothing to help my already foul mood.
