She scowled when a laugh escaped me.
“I’m the perfect solution. You don’t have to work on impressing me or shielding me from any asshole cousins because I’ve met them already. Think of the shock.” Her lush mouth curved into a devious grin. “My whole purpose for being there is to hang all over you and look good doing it. Take it as a peace offering for more amiable times ahead. Come on, Tyler.” She jabbed my arm. “Loosen up. For once. Could be fun.”
Fun. Of all the things I expected from Donnie’s wedding, fun—no matter who I was with—was not one of them.
“Oh, there you are.”
I turned at Carla’s voice. She looked between us with that hopeful gaze one of our mothers would have when they noticed a lull in our constant battles. I honestly hoped Olivia meant it when she said she wanted to get along, even if life experience told me that she was full of shit. But again, I didn’t have the energy for Olivia today, or the crazy offer she’d just made me, or to ponder why for a split second I almost said yes.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been to the bakery. Your mom has been telling me all the wonderful things you’ve been doing, and I love the name!”
“Thank you,” I said, surprised when my lips curved up. “People seem to like it”—I shrugged—“especially when baseball season starts.”
In high school and part of college, I was more focused on baseball than baking. A blown-out knee from sliding into second in my sophomore year of college put a damper on any kind of professional future. I wasn’t devastated but I still missed playing, and since the old bakery space I’d leased out wasn’t too far from the local minor-league field, I decided on renaming the bakeryHey, Batter. Everyone was surprised that I picked such a cheeky name, but my homage to my old life got us into local newspapers and the attention of some food bloggers.
“I’ll be in there soon for a box of cookies. Your mom raves over the chocolate chip—”
“Because that’s just what a diabetic needs, Mom.” Olivia’s back went rigid on the chair. “A box of cookies.”
Carla’s shoulders fell with a tiny sigh. I looked between them, surprised to see the sudden tension radiating from Olivia toward her mother.
“I take insulin, so I can eat sugar. All things in moderation are fine.” Carla’s smile was tight as her eyes bore into her daughter’s.
“We have some sugar-free stuff. Not much, but one of my assistant bakers is always trying out sugar-free and gluten-free options. Tell me when you’re coming, and I’ll make sure I have enough for a box.”
“Thank you, Tyler. My daughter likes to worry.” She heaved out an audible sigh. “Just like her father.”
After Carla went back inside the house, I caught a huff from Olivia. She glared into the distance, her chest rising and falling slowly.
Carla’s husband had passed away two years ago. Both of Olivia’s parents pulled out all the stops for their only child: huge birthday parties, a new car when the rest of us were begging to use our parents’ used ones. She was spoiled often for most of her life. After his sudden death, my mother had told me that Carla and Olivia were devastated and still weren’t the same. I hadn’t seen her since the funeral, but that annoying fight Olivia had within her, while very much there, seemed muted now. She still owned every room but didn’t shout it like she had before.
Maybe that had something to do with the truce she’d offered?
I wanted to ask Olivia what was wrong, but it was none of my business. The same as she didn’t have to get involved in my pointless and futile quest to gain a tiny bit of validation from my family.
Yet the sad gloss to her eyes wouldn’t let me drop it. Swallowing another groan, I leaned forward, shifting toward where Olivia now sat with her arms crossed.
“Is… anything wrong?”
“Nope,” she answered quickly. “I’m just, well, I’m glad I’m home again. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Yeah, you said you’re remote. What do you do?”
“Digital advertising. All I need is Wi-Fi.”
“Must be nice having a job you don’t need to leave the house for.”
The side of her mouth quirked up, drawing my attention to her lips—again.
“I leave the house. Just not in a nine-to-five kinda way.” She winked. “So are you going to let me do this favor for you, or what?”
“Favor?” I snickered. “Just because I haven’t dated in a while doesn’t mean I need a pity date.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Olivia swung her long, toned legs around and sat on the edge of the chair. “It’s not a date. It’s just one favor. As I said, no first-date awkward moments, no tension meeting family—I’m just a pretty ornament for the night, nothing more. I’ll even help carry the cake in.”
“Wow.” I coughed out a laugh. “You heard it all, huh?”
“Yes or no? Come on.” She cocked her head to the side. “I know fun isn’t your usual thing, but think about it.”
