Sienna shrugs. “Breakups are hard. My last one nearly killed me.”
"Is that why you and Ollie are keeping things casual?” I ask slyly, wiggling my eyebrows.
She groans. “Oh god, is it that obvious?”
“You two were super-glued together last weekend. Yeah, I’d say it was a tad bit obvious, Sienna.”
“He makes way too many stupid jokes, and he’s like a string-bean version of a man, but he’ssucha good kisser, Violet. Like, it’s insane. And his dick is just—”
I hold up a hand, wrinkling my nose. “Please. I do not need that visual.”
She grins. “Sorry.”
“Oh, that reminds me!” I push off the couch and head into her apartment’s adorable kitchen. “You have to try the cupcakes I made for his birthday.”
After unwrapping the one I packaged earlier, I grab a knife and split it down the middle, settling her half back on the plate. Passing it to her, I wait until she takes a bite before I dig in myself.
The second the icing touches her lips, her entire face lights up. “Holyshit, Violet. You baked this from scratch? Not from a box or anything?”
I nod, licking a bit of frosting off my finger. “I added chopped strawberries to the batter instead of strawberry extract, and I tried this new technique with the icing. Instead of a strawberry puree, I made a strawberry reduction, and it really kicked the flavors into overdrive. Not that the recipe wasn’t good before. It was decent, I guess, but this is definitely superior. Next time I might add a bit of lemon extract. I think that would pair nicely.” I tap my cheek thoughtfully. “Maybe even a little zest. Oh, yeah. That could be good.”
Sienna stares at me. “You really love baking, don’t you?”
I sigh. “I do.”
Sometimes, I like to imagine what it would be like to own my own bakery. It’s a crazy thought, a distant dream I wouldn’t know where to begin chasing down, but it’s fun to think about, even if it’s completely unobtainable. I can barely figure out my life for the next week, let alone come up with a long-term plan. For now, baking’s just a hobby, and that’s probably all it will ever be.
But still, it’s fun to fantasize.
I introduce Sienna to season one ofThe Baking Challenge, my absolute favorite show of all time, and we watch until our stomachs rumble. After much debate, we order pizza, which gets delivered right as Brit stumbles in off her shift. She collapses onto the other end of the couch, complaining about how much her feet hurt, and we boost her spirits with a glass of wine and a slice of pepperoni, the perfect combination.
When I finally arrive home, it’s almost 11:00 p.m., and the residential street is quiet and still. I enter through the front door and check the garage, frowning when I see Landon’s car there. I was hoping he’d gone back to his office, and I hesitate before entering the kitchen. I’m not sure what I’m worried about—that he threw the sandwich I left him across the room in annoyance? That he destroyed the rest of my cupcakes in a fit of rage?
But judging by the pristine state of the kitchen and the wrapped cupcakes sitting unharmed on the countertop, my imagination was just running wild again. The sandwich is gone, so I check the garbage—yes, it’s to that point—to see if he threw it away. But unless he went to the trouble of burying it deep down in the bag, he must have eaten it. Hemusthave.
Dragging myself up the stairs to bed, I feel a smug sense of satisfaction, like I won some unspoken competition between us.
I sleep like a baby.
NINE
The cupcakes are a hit, and if there’s one thing that can lift my spirits, it’s sending people into a sugar coma. Not ten minutes after I presented them to Ollie, nearly all of them disappeared off the plate, and I can’t hide my smile as the birthday boy goes in for a second.
“Jesus, Violet. Where did you learn to bake like this?" he asks, pulling down the polka-dot liner and taking an enormous bite. I’m almost impressed by the way he inhales his food.
“Back home, I had zero friends,” I joke, though it’s not far from the truth.
“Violet,” says Jake, finishing his off, “these cupcakes are crack. I’m addicted.”
“You’ve never even tried crack,” says Brit.
“How do you know?”
“Trust me, Jake. We’d all know if you were a crackhead.”
Jake rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to me. “You should start a food blog. Or a YouTube channel.”
Ollie nods and says through a mouthful of icing, “Oh yeah, you could behuge.”
