The fact that she was carrying three-quarters of a giant pink cake that looked like it weighed as much as Gizzy did not turn a single head in downtown Manhattan as we headed to my car.
“You ordered a whole entire cake?” I exploded when we were out of sight from the restaurant.
“Nope,” she said, still walking carefully in her black heels. “I asked for a slice of the raspberry champagne cake. Matt said since it wasn’t a popular cake and had been sitting there a little longer than they’d like, that I could just have it. He’s a super nice guy, and he has an iguana too! Can you believe it? We’re meeting up for a playdate with Gizzy and Maxine.”
“You’re not going on a date with the Alessio bartender,” I said automatically.
“It’s a pet playdate.”
I snorted. “It’s a ruse. I know what he wants.”
“Clearly you don’t, since hisboyfriend,” she emphasized, “is not a fan of iguanas, but tolerates Maxine because he loves Matt.”
“How do you know all this? I’ve been going there for years, and I don’t even know his name.”
“Probably why no one there has ever offered you three-quarters of a cake before,” she said with a sniff. “Anyway, where are we having our picnic? They wouldn’t let me have any plates, so we’ll have to eat out of the boxes.”
“Youcouldn’t convince them to give you plates?” I asked dryly.
“You were rushing me. I didn’t have time.”
“I have errands to run; we’re not having a picnic.”
“If you want to keep those magazine-worthy abs, you should eat.”
A small part of me was pleased at the compliment, though I’d tear out my fingernails before admitting it.
She yelped as she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. I rested my hand on her waist, steadying her.
“I bought you those shoes so you would stop tripping.”
“It’s not me! Manhattan is not wheelchair-friendly. Here, hold my cake. I’m going to file a complaint. The city needs to fix this.”
Lexi snapped photos of the uneven sidewalk while I stood there holding the giant cake.
“Okay, I can take it back now.”
She held out her arms. I ignored her.
“You’ll trip and fall.”
“You don’t know that,” she insisted, trotting next to me as I headed for the parking garage.
“And if I do trip, it’s only because you’re walking too fast. And before you make a nasty comment about short legs, I am also wearing a pencil skirt and cannot get a good stride.”
“I don’t know why women insist on wearing such impractical clothes,” I said then cursed as Lexi’s hand slipped into my coat pocket, feeling around.
“Don’t get your hackles up; I’m looking for the keys.”
She unlocked the car and then used the key fob to open the trunk.
“Are you returning the shoes?” she asked when she saw the boxes.
“Donating them. There’s a nonprofit around the corner—”
Lexi let out an earsplitting squeak, and I jumped.
“Oh my gosh!” Lexi squealed, her feet in those shoes making tippy-taps on the concrete parking garage floor. “We’re going to be kindness buddies!”
