Faye nudges her in the ribs. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice!” Kady snarls back at her.
“If you’re meant to be together, everything will work out,” Faye says dreamily. “Just look at me and Damon… And Kady and Calder. She stole his car, and he forgave her?—”
“And he stole my editorship,” Kady reminds Faye before her expression softens. “But yes, you have a point.”
“Thank you. I’ll talk to them about it soon.” I beam at my friends. I fan my face to stop the tears from falling, their support meaning the world to me. “I better get on with this cheesecake.”I turn to Sabs. “Would you prefer black forest or New York today?”
Sabs is gazing out of the window, her vacant stare fixed on a tree outside.
“Sabs?” I prompt.
“Huh?” She flinches back to the present. “Did you say something?”
“Are you okay?” I study her features. Physically, she looks fine. “You seem a little off.” That and her sweet cherry scent smells slightly sour, which usually hints there’s something on her mind.
“I’m all good.” She plasters on a wide smile that doesn’t feel genuine. “Just tired from last night.” She yawns melodramatically. “A stressful volleyball game followed by a night out with one too many tequila shots.”
I won’t press if she doesn’t want to talk about it, turning my focus to the one thing that’s sure to improve her mood.
“Hmm.” I decant the ingredients into the mixer to start making the crumb. When I turn it on, an alarming rattle rings out, like multiple parts clunking around together before the noise cuts out completely. “Come on…”
I flick the switch on and off again. Another ear-piercing metallic screech echoes around the kitchen like a banshee, making Faye grimace before it lets out a dying wheeze.
“That doesn’t sound good.” Sabs peers at it. “Maybe the motor’s gone.”
“This is my favorite mixer. Mom bought it for me for my sixteenth birthday. The day I found out my designation.” Despite all the other fancy equipment I’ve saved for and acquired—many bought by Kady as Christmas gifts—this mixer has remained my constant. The little dent on the side is from when I accidentally knocked it off the counter one Christmas while making sugar cookies, and it dons a faded sticker that my grandmother gaveme. It reminds me of home—hours spent cooking with Mom and us dancing around a steamy kitchen while singing.
“Although kitchen appliances aren’t exactly my area of expertise, I can see what I can do?” Sabs offers. She’s majoring in engineering, but I doubt mixer repair is part of the curriculum.
Frantic, I pull out my phone to start searching. “There must be a manual online with some instructions.”
“Maybe you’ll have to go without your cheesecake today,” Kady teases Sabs.
“Don’t worry, I can do it by hand,” I quickly assure Sabs when her face drops.
“I’m sure she can survive without the dopamine sugar hit.” Faye giggles.
Sabs pouts. “I don’t know about that.”
“I can make you all more tea while you wait?” Faye holds up her empty mug.
Sabs looks guiltily down at her still-full cup. “Uh…”
“You don’t like it, do you?” Faye groans. “Admittedly, it’s not my favorite either. I kinda think it tastes like dirt.”
Sabs gapes at her. “You do?”
“You said it was nice, so I thought it was just me who didn’t like it.” Faye takes her mug to the sink.
“Well, I might have been exaggerating when I said it was nice.” Sabs grimaces. “It tastes?—”
“Like potpourri,” Kady interjects.
While they chatter, I’m hunting for the mixer manual when a text comes into my new group chat with the guys.
TAE
