“What you mean you don’t know where he at?”
He’d belted the question out incredulously with his perfect eyebrows bunched together, and I’d balked at it every night in bed until his voice roused me out of my sleep one last time. So, I watched AJ’s Instagram story from my burner account.
I found him eating brunch at Orsay with Blake looking happy and relaxed, donning a Denim Tears puffer that I picked out on a trip to Tokyo. He didn’t look like a man whose fiancée had left him, but then again, what did I expect? He’d strolled into plentyof places with a relaxed smile after we fought. Usually, the more at ease he looked, the more he fumed inside, and maybe Rich was right. Maybe men like AJ don’t just let women like me walk away.
I bite my lip. “So what kind of cake does this dude want?”
Her eyebrows wrinkle. “Why do you care so much?”
“I’m just making conversation.” I shrug. “Remember, you used to say, ‘Talking keeps the boredom at bay.’”
And it’s the only way I can make sure Rich still exists because all I have are faint memories of us arguing at the dead end of Joliet, and his masculine scent cemented into my brain from the wind blowing it my way when we walked out of Lucky’s. I don’t have his number to tell him I know where AJ is now, and he doesn’t have mine to remind me of how tough he thinks I am.
“He wants a German chocolate cake from Copeland’s,” she finally says.
“People still get cakes from Copeland’s?”
“Not like they used to. But he’s still holding on.”
“Dang. I remember folks used to line up on Saturday mornings for their German chocolate cakes.”
“Yeah…I run into his wife every now and then. She says some days are better than others ‘cause it’s so much competition now—I mean we got a freakin Whole Foods.” She curls her lip up. “And some kind of weed bakery over by the washateria, but Copeland’s is still standing by the grace of God, among other things.”
“And this guy wants a cake from there…on a Saturday…two hours before they close?” I raise my eyebrows, shifting my weight from one leg to the other as my nipples pucker against my bra at the possibility of hearing Rich’s drawl just one more time. “How do you even know it’s his birthday anyway?”
“Jesus, Lovie, the man told me the other day.”
“So he just volunteered the infor?—”
She flings her hand up. “Look, when people share stuff with you on a whim, it means they want you to care. So, I’m caring.”
I fold my lips under my teeth and nod. “Right…”
I force my eyes to stay straight and not roll because Rich Lovelace didn’t just share stuff on a whim.
My stomach cramps because I’m crazy enough to think that I know him after spending a few hours with him, but deep in the pit of my crampy stomach I know I’m right. Out of all the bakeries in the city, he wants a German chocolate cake from Copeland’s bakery that’s two doors down from Terrica’s shop? I think he wants me back with him again, and there’s something inside of me that wants him back with me too.
She brings her phone close to her eyes. “Hold on. I think he’s typing something else to me. That’s what the dots mean, right?”
I groan, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, girl.”
Her head cocks to the side and her eyebrows wrinkle. “What the heck does this mean?”
I want to pry the phone from her hands and question him myself, but that’d be a pretty trifling thing for me to do.
After a few seconds, Aunt Faye’s mouth curves into a smile. “Ohhh, he’s still helping some of the boys at Worthing. He says he’s teaching them how to throw jabs. Ain’t that nice of him? Lord knows Kenny struggles with them boys. This bunch he got ain’t easy.”
My body grows warm and my eyes dart back to the wet floor. “Why don’t you bring Rich the cake tomorrow?”
“He’s busy all day tomorrow. I don’t like bothering him on Sundays unless it’s important.”
“Because of…?”
When she doesn’t answer, I glance back over at her, and she’s already staring at me with her lips pursed. It’s the same look she gave me when I asked her about his broken jaw.
“Okayyy.” I blow out a raspberry. “Why don’t you bring it to him on Monday?”
“You know Copeland’s is closed on Mondays, and Rich doesn’t like to eat anything on Mondays anyhow.”
