Page 42 of Go Cook Yourself

“Ruby, what is the Cloud Burst?” he asks as I stare, dumbfounded, at the cake.

I stutter my reply. “It’s our monthly family meal where we talk about how the cookery school is going and make plans for the next month. My grandparents named it that because we talk wild ideas for the future, like a cloud bursting full of them.” His brow furrows, and I swallow loudly, grateful that some of my arousal has passed. “Why do you ask?”

“Kath invited me to it tonight.”

I swear my stomach jumps to my throat and then back down again.

“Tonight?” I squeak. Shit, of course. We meet once a month. Then, on the twenty-third of December, we have an end-of-the-year cookery school Christmas Cloud Burst dinner. How could I forget? That also means I’ll see my parents for the first time since my grandparent’s funeral tonight.

Double shit.

“That’s what she said.”

“And she invited you? Okay, sure, yeah, that’s fine,” I reply, forcing an airy sound. “It will start in about an hour. Everyone will arrive soon, so you still have time to escape.”

He cocks his head and holds his lower lip in his mouth, giving him a lost schoolboy look. “Don’t you want me there?”

I scratch my forehead. No, I don’t, but I don’t know why. “Oh no, it can just be a bit much. It’s my whole family, as well as Wicksy and Kath. But if you want to come, then sure.”

“It's important, then.” Maybe he doesn’t want to come.

“It means they see you as part of the Cloud family. The temporary kitchen hands don’t get invited. Amber told me that it took a year before Wicksy was invited. I guess you’re privileged, as it’s only a few months,” I ramble.

“Yeah,” he replies, and his voice wavers. His eyes wobble in his head, but suddenly, he slams his hand down. “I’m coming.”

“Great.”

Maybe having him there will distract me from worrying about my parents. My first monthly family meal since returning to the cookery school. Thank God I’ve made this fantastic cake. Maybe I can shove it at my parents and we can forget the last six years.

Garett licks my earlier projectile buttercream off his forearms again. My pussy whispers filth to me. Sweat beads the back of my neck, and my mouth goes dry. He’s the last distraction I need while my family are around.

???

The next hour flies by, and soon, there’s five of us instead of two in the cookery school dining room.

“Are my parents coming?” I ask Kath as my gaze flits repeatedly between the clock and the empty chairs. The dread that I’ve not spoken to them before now crept up on me over the last hour until it was all I thought about.

Kath shakes her head. “They tried to return in time, but their flight was delayed.” I didn’t know they were away. I need to visit. Fear pinches my heart. I was rude to them when I was with Neil, but avoiding them is rude now, too. “They messaged me a couple of minutes ago. They’ve just landed and will be home in two hours.”

“Cool, cool,” I reply. Garett squeezes his mouth to the side as he stares at me. Oh, great. Now I’ve got to worry about his pending questions about my parents, too.

A sound in the corridor makes us all turn. Jem rushes through the door, and the smile that covers my face is a mixture of nostalgia and surprise.

Jem gives me a side hug, the scent of cherry radiating from his clothes. “It’s been a while, sis.”

“Yeah, baby brother. I’ve missed your lazy ass.” I ruffle his dark brown hair, and he slaps my hands away and ends the hug. I look up to him. “You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

He shrugs. Shit, my baby brother has turned into a man. My heart pulls at the dark circles around his brown eyes. My hand hovers near his cheekbones, which are more obvious than I remember. “How’s uni?”

“Oh, you know,” he mumbles. He then sits as far away from me as possible as I try to introduce him to Garett.

Jem’s broad shoulders hunch, and he avoids eye contact as Kath hands out the pasta dish she asked Garett to prepare when he agreed to come to the meal.

“This tastes like that one Clive Macdonald won the best restaurant competition with,” Amber says, shoving penne in her mouth as if she’s scared someone will steal her plate.

I raise my eyes at her, and she grunts, “Twins.” She points at her belly.

Kath takes a bite and chews it slowly. “You’re right. I remember my friend sneaking us the leftovers after the competition.”

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