“Noah?” she asks, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
“Sorry I’m late,” I tell her.
“It’s okay, there wasn’t any football tonight anyway.” She yawns. “Did Savannah come?”
“With me?” I turn around as if she might be standing there behind me.
“No, but the bake sale is tomorrow.”
Fuck.
“The one I volunteered for.”
“Not that I didn’t trust you, but I told Savannah about it. She said she’d bring something, but…”
“How many cupcakes was I supposed to make?”
“You forgot?” She doesn’t look upset, but she also isn’t surprised. And I hate more than anything when she expects to be let down.
“Of course not. The first batch is in the oven,” I lie.
“Maybe…thirty-six?” she guesses. “But can we do the big ones? We’re only allowed to have one treat with lunch on bake sale days.”
“No problemo. You get some sleep, and the cupcakes will be on the counter when you wake up.”
“You’re the best.” She hugs me, then goes back to sleep, clearly relieved, while I figure out how long it will take me to make thirty-six cupcakes.
* * *
The answer is forever.
Doug is gone when I get back from the grocery store with all the ingredients, so I put a podcast on and get baking. I have a whole production chain going, prepping more mix while the first batch cooks, cooling it and making more batter while the second batch is in…I am halfway through very badly decorating my first dozen cupcakes – of which only eight survived, because they were before I remembered those paper cup things – when I check the oven and see my current batch isn’t rising. I take them out and find mostly batter, without the telltale whoosh of heat that usually accompanies opening the oven.
Fuuuck.
I take a deep, calming breath that doesn’t fucking help, then look inside the oven as if I know anything about fixing it. Maybe if it was a car, but I’ve never opened things up and wondered how they work, I just do whatever standard services Eddie teaches me.
It’s past midnight, and as much of an emergency this is to me, I can’t expect a technician to come out in the middle of the night to fix the oven when I could easily pick something up at a bakery tomorrow. But Izzie deserves the effort of something homemade.
I google where I can use an oven at one in the morning, and am halfway to booking an Airbnb, when I get a notification and see a series of texts I ignored while working on the cupcakes
.
IVY GANG
Colt
Anyone know if Noah is coming home tonight?
Owen
I think he’s spending time with Izzie.
David
Why are you asking?
Colt
