Chapter 7
Aunt Bernie, Dad’s sister, had this saying she liked to use. When she wanted to drop someone a hint, she said, “Let me just go put a bug in her ear about that.” When he’d been a little kid, Wyatt had thought she carried around a jar of bugs in her handbag or something, and released them when she wanted them to whisper things in people’s ears. It had taken him a long time—and several sneaky searches through Aunt Bernie’s handbag—to figure out it was just a saying.
And now Izzy, Wyatt thought, had put a bug in Justin’s ear. It had to have been him. Wyatt wasn’t sure how since he’d escaped after dinner because Izzy’s presence was making him act weirder than usual: he was either too quiet, then made up for it by babbling in a rush, or he was too still, then made up for it by flailing everywhere. He’d felt like he was trying to keep his balance the whole dinner, and messing it up either way, and all because Izzy was hot, and all because whenever their gazes met Wyatt felt, somehow, totally exposed. Like Izzy was seeing him in a way that usually people didn’t. It had been nerve-wracking.
But Izzy had definitely said something, because after he was gone Justin came into Wyatt’s room and looked at the passport form on his desk and said, “You still haven’t filled this out?”
“I’m getting to it,” Wyatt said, his heart beating fast.
And Justin looked at him carefully—why the hell were people suddenlyseeinghim?—and nodded slowly at last. “You don’t have to.”
Wyatt flinched. “What?”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Justin said. “You know that, right?”
Wyatt snorted, hoping it covered his sudden burst of panic. “Of course I know that! I want to go!”
And why did he even say that? Here was Justin, offering him the perfect out, so why didn’t Wyatt take it? And he thought it was maybe because he didn’t want to have that talk where he would have to explain to Dad and Justin why he didn’t want to go, when he didn’t even know what the reason was himself except he wasscared. And he was ashamed and embarrassed at the thought of having to admit that, because who wouldn’t be? He was nineteen, almost twenty, and he had nothing to be scared of anyway.
“Okay,” Justin said. “What are you working on?”
Wyatt closed his laptop. “Just looking at ideas for Jimmy’s cupcakes. They don’t want to do pink or blue, so I thought maybe I’d make them all different pastel colors. I was looking for something similar to send Jenna.”
Justin nodded. “That was interesting tonight, what you said about people wanting to buy business space near bakeries because of the smell.”
Wyatt shrugged.
“I guess we never had to,” Justin said, “since smells like that come right from our kitchen. Between you and Del we’ve got it covered.”
“Bakeries aren’t restaurants,” Wyatt said. “It’s a different smell.”
Justin smiled. “Right. But you guys cook a lot of bread between you.”
It was different, Wyatt thought. He didn’t want to be the pâtissier in a restaurant. He didn’t want to have a counter in someone else’s kitchen, waiting for the rush of the dinner service to end before the orders came flooding in for desserts. Turning up earlier than all the other chefs to give his doughs time to rise, and finishing later than everyone except the dishwashers because people liked to linger when it came to ordering dessert. He liked working beside Dad in his kitchen, but he’d seen enough commercial kitchens to know how loud and fast and angry they could be. The first time Alain Donadieu yelled at him, Wyatt knew he’d cry in front of everyone.
He curled his hands into loose fists so that Justin couldn’t see his hands were shaking.
“It’ll be great,” he lied. “It’ll be amazing.”
Justin smiled and ruffled his hair, and left him to it.
Wyatt didn’t sleep well.
* * * *
“I like a boy,” Lettie announced the next day, her eyes narrow as though this was an unhappy event.
Wyatt looked up from the dog he was petting. “Oh.”
“He’s seventeen,” Lettie said. “He likes dogs and anime and he skates.” She sat down on the front step beside him and sighed heavily.
“Does he like you too?” Wyatt asked.
“Yes,” Lettie said, and wrinkled her nose. “The weirdo.”
Wyatt laughed. “So what’s the problem?”
“He wants me to go to the movies with him,” Lettie said and gestured at herself.
