“I’m helping,” he taunted. He opened the oven and practically threw the pan inside. “You’re welcome.”
14
Matt
“And this is the worst ever baking partner in the entire history of Christmas bake-offs.”
I glared at Merrie’s phone camera.
After I had put the cheesecake in the oven, Merrie had opened the door to try to rearrange her truffles until I reminded her that the cake was going to be raw.
So instead, she spent the next hour while the clock ticked down making chocolate bark with candied cranberries, mini marshmallow bits she made herself, sea salt, and dried oranges and other fruit, all while narrating the whole shit show on her Instagram Live.
“As you can see,” she said to the phone camera, swiveling her wrist to center the frame on me, “this is the face of a man who not only hates baking but hates Christmas too. Can you take him home to your mom? No. He’ll probably insult the Christmas goose then throw the whole thing in the oven so half the stuffing is everywhere, and children are crying, just like he did to my poor cheesecake.”
I rolled my eyes, then smirked at the camera.
“Terrible, isn’t he?” Merrie asked. “And let’s take another look at the baking crime scene.”
She turned on the oven light. Inside, the cake was rising slowly. At the bottom of the oven, spilled batter burned cheerfully away.
“Good thing we’re outside,” Merrie said to the people watching the live stream. “Otherwise, we’d have to evacuate the building.”
“It’s just going to give the cheesecake a toasted marshmallow flavor,” I said, curling up my lip.
“No one wants a smoke-flavored cheesecake.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You could bring it to a barbecue.”
“This is Christmas,” Merrie snapped. “It’s supposed to be wholesome.”
“Maybe the smoky flavor will disguise the fact that the cake is completely raw.”
Merrie huffed.
“Dear Santa,” she said to the camera, “all I want for Christmas is a new baking partner, one who actually knows how to use an icing piper.”
“I thought you wanted to be fucked by a two-foot-long dick?” I retorted.
Merrie screeched and jabbed at the phone to end the livestream.
“There could have been children watching; what is wrong with you?”
I stole a piece of the chocolate bark. It was actually pretty good.
“You should make one of these with pretzels,” I told her.
“You’re going to get us canceled on Twitter,” she protested. “We’re going to get hate mail.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the three people who were watching your livestream are going to be really put out.”
“Ten minutes, bake-off contestants!” Anastasia announced.
“Oh no,” Merrie moaned, sinking to her knees in front of the oven. “We’re not going to make it.”
She glanced at the clock and back to the oven.
“I don’t think I should take it out,” she babbled to herself. “Don’t even dare open the door; just keep cooking, little one.”
