It doesn’t matter, though. Soon, I’ll open my own bakery. At my shop, they can flirt with me all they want. I’ve got half the cash I need to open it. Plus, now I’m nominated for Best Pastry Chef, and if I win the award this year, and the $100,000 prize, I’ll be set.
My luck has to be changing. After the disaster that was last year, I’ve got to get a break.
My phone rings in my pocket. My older brother, Marc, is calling.
“Hey.” Marc sounds echo-y, so I know he’s calling me from his fancy new car, probably stuck in traffic on the way to his law office. He never has time to call anyone unless he’s stuck in traffic. “You remember Allie’s birthday tomorrow?”
I roll my eyes. “OfcourseI remember our niece’s birthday.” The fact that Marc feels the need to remind me is slightly annoying. “I’m baking the cake, remember?”
“Okay, just checking. You know this party is… important.”
“I know.” A year ago, the poor four-year-old was stuck in the cancer ward at Chicago Hospital, fighting off leukemia. That spunky, adorable, fearless girl gave us the scare of our lives. But she fought through it like a champ and kicked cancer’s ass with her light-up sparkling unicorn sneakers. That soon-to-be-five-year-old is my damn hero. “I’m making her favoritecake—chocolate chocolate. And Imighthave picked up a few things. Pink and glittery.”
“Ian isn’t going to like that. You know how he feels about glitter.” Ian’s our other brother and Allie’s dad, and has lamented a million times how glitter gets all over every surface of the house, no matter how much they try to contain it.
“Ian can bite me,” I joke. “The girl loves glitter? She’s getting glitter. After all that she’s been through? Least I can do.”
“Yeah, and she’s got a doctor’s checkup later this month…” Marc trails off, because he doesn’t want to say what we’re both thinking: the cancer could come back anytime. It’s a sneaky, cowardly son of a bitch.
“That’s why Allie gets all the glitter and chocolate she can handle right now.”
Because the truth is, we don’t know how many birthdays Allie will get. Whether she stays well is up to the big guy upstairs. All the doctors tell us the odds are good. Still, it’s the Big C. And it’s scary as hell.
“Okay, well, don’t be late. It’s eleven at Ian’s place.”
“I know, Marc. Iknow.” Marc feels the need to police us all, being the oldest. Even when we were little, he promoted himself to Mann Family boss.
I hang up with Marc, heart a little bit heavy. But Allie won, I tell myself. She beat it. No use in letting doubts about her future creep in. She’s going to live long and well. Allie reminds me that we only get one shot on planet Earth. You never know when your time is up. Might as well make the most of it.
I think about Sora again and sigh. I just wish I could be making the most of it with her.
Eight
SORA
Only you can make yourself happy. No one else can do that. Stop trying to delegate the duty to someone else.
—SOLO FEBRUARY CHALLENGE
Saturday morning, I still feel a nagging worry that blowing off Jack might have been a mistake. I’m consumed by all the what ifs. Could he have been The One? Or am I just using him as an excuse not to work on myself? I’ll admit, I’m more than a little haunted by the look of disappointment on his face. I hate that I’m responsible for that. I am working through my guilt by eating my feelings. Stella would tell me this is decidedly unhealthy, but bacon just makes everything better, okay?
My short-tempered dad was impatient with everyone and everything,exceptwhen he made breakfast Saturday mornings when I was a kid. His specialties were pancakes and bacon. He’d always fry up a full package at a time, and because Namiand Mom weren’t huge fans of the crunchy breakfast meat, Dad and I had more to ourselves. It’s one of the few really, truly good memories I have of Dad.
Larry whines, winking at me with his forever-shut eye, pink tongue out. I put a couple of pieces in his bowl, and he gobbles them up.
“What should we do today?” I ask Larry. He looks up, hopeful for another piece of bacon.
My phone pings.Solo February is becoming a thing, seriously,Arial texts me.Check your inbox.
I glance at my phone and realize I’ve got hundreds of new emails. The last article I posted has four hundred thousand likes! What the…!
I’ve been feeling like you do for a long time,one woman wrote.Thank you for writing what we’ve all been thinking. I’ve been looking for happiness through a man for too long. Thank you for giving me the courage to be on my own.
Wow. I browse through dozens of other messages, and the theme is the same. What I’m writing is resonating with people. Really hitting home. Stella was right!
My phone buzzes with another text. This one from Nami.
You coming to FlyFit today, right? It’s in a half hour.
