Page 98 of You Float My Boat

The only person who paid any attention was, ironically, our cleaner, who was happy she had one less room to clean, mostly because Brooks’ room took her most of the day.

By the time the alarm beeped on the oven, I’d soaped and rinsed the counter and stove, reorganizedthe fridge, piled up the dishwasher with all the mixing bowls, along with the stove tops, and taken the bin bags out. The chocolate chips were back in the cupboard, and the frosting was set on the side ready to be piped out once the cupcakes had cooled enough.

I was in the process of laying them on the cooling rack when I heard the click of the front door. I thought I’d timed it so that both Oz and Brooks were out of the house while I’d been baking, because it would raise fewer questions. Plus, they usually argued over who got to lick the bowl and I didn’t have time for that today.

‘Oh my god, something smells amazing Charles,’ Brooks announced as he appeared in the kitchen archway, followed closely by Oz. ‘What culinary delights have you baked today?’

‘Cupcakes,’ I replied, slapping Brooks’ hand away as he reached for one. ‘They’re still hot. Just wait.’

His bottom lip protruded so dramatically I decided it wasn’t just Violet who’d inherited the theatrical gene in their family.

Oz slipped onto one of the large kitchen stools surrounding the island, and frowned. ‘Why’ve you made so many?’

This was exactly the type of question I didn’t want asked. Because I’d never made thirty cupcakes before. I’d never made cupcakes, period. But Ididknow that whatever I baked would have to include enough for the boys. They would get their portion, but two thirds of these babies – the best two thirds – were going elsewhere.

‘Because I need to take some for a project.’

‘What project?’

‘A work project.’

‘A work project that involves three dozen cupcakes?’

‘Mmm hmm.’ I turned away to find Brooks standing by the kettle as he peered into the bowl of frosting. I snatched it right before he stuck his finger in. ‘For fuck’s sake. Make the tea, I’ll make you a cupcake.’

He grinned wide. ‘You have yourself a deal.’

I glanced back to Oz who was rolling his eyes enough for the both of us. Standard Brooks behaviour.

I picked two of the worst looking cupcakes from the tray, though worst was the wrong word because they were all amazing. This frosting was going to slide right off without letting them cool properly, although knowing Brooks he’d probably inhale it before it got the chance.

Ripping off a sheet of baking parchment, I folded it into a cone, cut the end off and scooped in a dollop of the frosting. By the time Brooks had finishing making us all a cup of tea and taken a seat next to Oz, said frosting was neatly piped onto the top of the cupcakes like a little Mr Whippy.

I placed one in front of each of them, and I leaned back. Five seconds later and neither of them were touched. Brooks, in fact, was looking at his in a way that could only be described as suspicious.

‘What’s wrong?’

His mouth crooked as he looked at it. ‘The frosting, it’s purple.’

My chest tightened. ‘Yes?’

‘These aren’t vegetable cupcakes or some shit, are they? This isn’t beetroot frosting, is it? Because honestly,Charlie, beetroot tastes like dirt. I don’t want a dirt-tasting cupcake.’

I looked at Oz who was trying to hold in a smile, ‘First, no one’s forcing you to eat it. Second, no it’s not beetroot.’

‘Excellent.’ He lifted the cupcake to his mouth then stopped. ‘Wait, it’s not lavender is it? Because I’m not on board with that either.’

‘No, just plain old vanilla with some –’

Half the cupcake had been inhaled before I’d finished the end of the sentence.

‘Idsreallygoob.’

I picked up my tea and sipped it, hiding the smirk. ‘Thank you. And thank you for the tea.’

The second half of the cupcake disappeared, and Brooks washed it all down with a glug of tea, then peered longingly at the as yet untouched one sitting in front of Oz.

‘Are you going to eat that?’

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