I didn’t believe her then, but I do now. Bakingisa quiet sort of magic that wraps itself around you, an alchemy of comfort and creation.
But just because she was right about that doesn’t mean she’s right to force me into making a promise I can’t keep. She was lucky; she and my grandpa had a love you see only in movies or read about in fairy tales. My mom too. She and Dad loved each other so much it was borderline revolting—at least, I felt that way when I was a kid. Now I know how rare both my parents’ and grandparents’ relationships were.
I wish the family pattern weren’t going to end with me, but sadly, delirious happiness and love forever after is not in my future. The thing is, Ihavetried. And every time I’ve let myself hopethatkind of love might be within my reach, it’s been snatched away, proving I’m too much of a risk for fairy tales to come true. It’s not in the cards for me.
If only Farmor would realize it and leave me alone instead of reminding me exactly how lonely my future is destined to be on a regular basis.
A sigh escapes me, and I let it slip away like smoke, grounding myself once more in the rhythm of the dough, trusting the quiet magic to weave its spell.
3.
That night, I unlock the door to our half of Lou’s duplex and let myself into the dark foyer. Talia and I were supposed to have a movie night, but she had some crisis at work and canceled. And Lou has a date she’s been looking forward to for two weeks. It’s just me, my Panera green goddess salad, and Netflix. My mom invited me to come over and have dinner with her and Farmor, but after spending hours going over numbers that didn’t get any better no matter how many times I crunched them, I don’t feel up for a family dinner. I’m tired and achy; the pressure of our shrinking margins sits on my chest, compressing my lungs. The last thing I need is Mom fussing over me, the ever-present worry filling her eyes. After last year, I can’t even mention a headache or a shiver without her wanting to call Dr. Thorup.
But I also don’t dare tell her or Farmor how dire things are getting. I’ll fix it. Somehow.
I toe off my scuffed, well-worn work Nikes by the door and glance down to realize I never removed my flour-streaked apron from the bakery. I head to the kitchen to set down mysalad, phone, keys, and purse so I can take the apron off and toss it in the wash.
When I round the corner, I scream, chucking everything in my hands at the dark shadow skulking by the sink. I have no idea if any of the items hit the intruder, except for my salad container—which makes a direct hit in his chest, exploding open and showering the man in lettuce, green goddess dressing, grilled chicken, and assorted veggies.
The intruder has the audacity to shout. “What the—”
I don’t wait around for him to finish his sentence—or recover from his shock. I spin, sprinting for the door, realizing too late that I also threw my phone at him, so I have no way to call the police. My heart gallops beneath my ribs, sending my blood pounding through my body. What does he want? There’s nothing to steal in our kitchen, unless he’s in the market for a teal-blue KitchenAid mixer, which means he was waiting for one of us girls to come home.
I fully expect footsteps to thud behind me from his pursuit—but none come. I make it to the door, yank it open, and slam it shut behind me without any sign of the attacker.
Maybe I injured him somehow. Maybe my phone hit him in the head and knocked him out, and I didn’t wait long enough to see him drop. That would be a good tradeoff for having been dumb enough to use it as a weapon instead of as a means to call for help.
After rushing down the stairs, I pause on the grass, prepared to leap behind the bushes if he emerges from the unit. Even from that small sprint, I’m panting, pressing a hand to my sternum. My heart races, and my chest is tight, as if a fist has closed around it. But that’s normal, right? For having almost been assaulted? It’s a normal heart, doing normal heart things in a terrifying situation.
“Liv? What are you—”
“Lou!” I gasp in relief to see my roommate coming up the sidewalk, her sleek Lexus parked behind my worse-for-wear Volvo.
“What’s going on? Why are you outside in your socks and—”
“There’s aguy—he was going toattackus—I threw my stuff at him and barely escaped—” I gasp, my words tumbling out, my blood a wild rush in my veins.
Lou’s eyes widen. “What? Did you call the cops?”
“No, I threw my phone at him!” I wail, and bless her heart, Lou doesn’t comment on my stupidity. She merely pulls her phone out and unlocks it to call the police.
I hear the sound of the operator’s voice but can’t make out her words.
“I need to report a break-in. There’s a man in my home, and he tried to attack my roommate.” She grabs me by the arm as she talks, pulling me farther across the grass, toward our cars. She rattles off our address in Scottsdale and then turns to me and asks, “Was the door broken into? Any shattered windows or—”
Suddenly, the front door opens. Lou’s questions cut off when the man walks onto the porch, a few pieces of lettuce still sticking to his neck, shirt, and loosened tie—a white button-down soaked with dressing and clinging to his frighteningly large muscles. Muscles he’ll use to grab us both and hold us down and—
“Hunter?” Lou says and then spins toward me. “You threw your phone—and apparently your salad—at my cousin?”
Oh, no, no,no.... That’s when I realize the profile of the man on the porchdoeslook familiar.Ah, crap.
My face heats, all the blood that was rushing through my body now converging in my burning cheeks. “Uh ....”
“Anyone want to explain why I just got attacked by salad, keys, and an outdated iPhone from a random girl in an apron?” Hunter’s voice is deep and throaty, and I want to get in my car, drive as far as it will go before it breaks down, and never come back to this duplex ever again—or at least, until Hunter moves back out.
“Oh, yes, sorry. Actually, it was a big misunderstanding. We’re good. No, we don’t need the police. I’m so sorry ...” Lou says into her phone. Her fingers tighten around my forearm, refusing to let me escape my humiliation. Although, since I chucked my keys, along with my phone and salad, at Hunter, I can’t drive away even if I do manage to escape her iron grip. She is small but mighty.
“Liv, why did you thinkHunterwas an intruder?” Lou’s mouth twitches.
