Page 17 of Yours Temporarily

I included three other options in the book.

“Jeremy invited me to the awards ceremony,” I blurt out since I’ll need the girls’ help shopping. Still, my heart races at the revelation.

“What?” they all exclaim in unison.

Damien slops the pasta into the strainer too fast, and some splashes onto the counter. Olivia’s jaw hangs open, her hands pausing from opening the book, and Lexi just blinks, not even bothering to snap our pictures now.

“As his date,” I add to get it all out in the open rather than wait for the tension to dissipate.

They fall silent a moment before Lexi reaches for her camera, snaps a picture, and hoots, “I knew it!”

“The event is staff-and-spouses only,” Olivia chimes in. “If you’re coming as a spouse, then he really likes you.”

Damien’s reaction, however, is more guarded. “Are you kidding me?” His voice rises. His protective nature is nothing new. He lifts his hands. “Am I the only one who sees how wrong this is?”

“When was the last time you got excited about me having a date?” I counter, meeting his gaze. He grumbles, clearly frustrated, but he’ll come around. For now, I won’t reveal my arrangement with Jeremy. Instead, I steer the conversation back to our current task. “Let’s focus on the cake.”

The girls buzz with excitement, while Damien remains thoughtful. He must be unsure of what to do next because he joins us around the island.

Olivia’s finger traces down the cookbook’s list. “You’re missing a key ingredient for our cake.” She’s snickering, so it mustn’t have anything to do with the recipe.

“What would that be?” I play along.

“A dash of fun,” she declares, eyeing Damien, then scoops a handful of powdered sugar from the open jar and tosses it at his blue T-shirt. “Lighten up, Mr. Grumpy!”

Damien, now speckled with sweetness, tries to maintain his stern demeanor. Then Olivia smears another handful across his face, and his resolve cracks. The corners of his lips twitch, and he looms over us. “You girls sure you want to do this?”

“Do you?” Olivia counters, mischief playing across her face.

The moment Damien grabs the sugar jar, the room erupts into playful chaos. Armed with the jar, he chases Olivia. With their infectious laughter, a joyful lightness dusts the air as sugary and sweet as the powdery concoctions they’re tossing at one another. My mind goes back to my time with Jeremy when I smeared him with flour and had him laughing. Goose bumps scatter my arms at the memory of his tender caress on my cheeks.

I shake my head to snap out of the memory. We’re in a fake relationship, and the sooner my brain gets the memo, the better.

“You’re insane.” Olivia coughs from the sugar as she swats at Damien’s chest and his laughter rumbles free.

Lexi’s camera captures the moment, the shutter clicking rapidly. “This is perfect for the blog!”

“Good luck cleaning up, you two.” I grin, thinking of a similar playful spat they had last week. Only Damien can get away with dumping this much sugar in Olivia’s hair.

In the kitchen of our childhood home, I’m feasting on a profound gratitude. When our parents passed, they left the house to Damien and me, and we chose to keep it rather than sell it. This home continues to make memories of love and laughter.

Food truly has a unique way of uniting people, sparking conversations, mending rifts, and fostering joy. Observing my brother and friends, their laughter mingling with sugar-sweetened air, I’m again struck by food’s ability to bridge the gaps between us. Not that I expect it to cross the divide between Jeremy and me, of course.

CHAPTER 7

Zuri

In my bedroom, I scrutinize my reflection in the full-length mirror. Adjusting the sleek lines of my dress, Olivia, ever the caretaker, fusses over my hair, her fingers deft and gentle, though it’s already impeccable. She clips a white flower pin to the side of my hair. “This is what it’s missing.”

She’s right. The white complements my dark dress.

I nod at my reflection. “Thanks.”

Meanwhile, Lexi, with her unbridled enthusiasm, debates the merits of various heels that could go well with my dress and leaves her choices scattered like colorful sprinkles around the room.

“I reckon I’m already set.” I tried on my shoes yesterday and made my choice.

My dress, a stunning off-shoulder navy-blue gown, flows to the floor with an elegance I rarely indulge in. It’s simple yet sophisticated, and the added elegance makes me feel ready to conquer this evening. I got it on a discount rack with the help of my friends. But deep inside, I was thinking of looking extra nice for Jeremy. As I smooth a hand down my slim waist, I can’t suppress the fluttery excitement of this being a date.

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