The edges were crisp and the center gave way entirely, dense and fudgy, and the salt hit at the very end, just a flicker of it, and I closed my eyes for a second.
“Well?” Frank was watching us all with his arms crossed, performing patience badly.
“Frank.” I looked up at him. “These need to be on the menu.”
“That's what I thought.”
The table agreed loudly and at length, and Frank looked satisfied enough to float back to the kitchen.
I ate the rest of my brownie and told myself that was it. One brownie as promised. I'd been good. I'd shown up, I'd laughed, I'd participated, and now I was going home like a person with responsibilities.
Then I looked at the plate.
One brownie left. Sitting there. Warm, fudgy, criminally good.
“Okay,” I said. “How are we doing this?”
“Doing what?” Abby asked.
I pointed at the plate.
Five people looked at one brownie.
“We cut it,” Emily said immediately.
“Into five pieces?” Evan's expression made his feelings clear.
“You cannot cut a brownie that size five ways. That's crumbs,” Nate added.
Emily nodded. “Okay, he's right.”
“There's a very elegant solution to this.” Nate leaned back in his chair. “Saddest story wins.”
Evan frowned. “What?”
“It's from Notting Hill.” I smiled at Nate. “The dinner scene.”
“Never seen it.”
“Evan.” Abby stared at her fiancé.
“What? It's a rom-com.”
“Onlythegreatest rom-com,” I corrected. “Okay, fine. Saddest story gets the brownie. Who's going first?”
Everyone looked at Evan.
He spread his hands. “What?”
“Go on,” Emily said.
He leaned back, completely unbothered. “I've got nothing. I'm marrying the most beautiful girl in Alder Creek in a few weeks. Life's good.”
The table erupted. Emily booed first, loud and immediate. Abby covered her face with both hands, laughing. Nate slow-clapped twice before stopping.
“That's disgusting,” I said. “Genuinely offensive. You didn't even try.”
“Zero shame,” Emily added.
