Page 76 of Billion Dollar Dispute

Harvey raises an eyebrow. “I followed a recipe. There were no rules against that, were there?”

“No,” I admit through gritted teeth.

He pulls his phone out and dials, and a deep male voice answers, “Harvey.”

“Hey Dad, is Grams there?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I need to talk to her.”

The next minute an older woman's voice sounds. “Harvey?”

“Hi, Grams,” he says, smiling as I hear her voice crack through the phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m at work, but I baked a cake using your recipe for the vanilla sponge,” he replies.

“Oh, you did?”

Harvey glances at me, then to the screen, her eyebrow lifting in mild surprise.

“Did you want to see it?” he asks, holding the phone closer, eager to show her.

“Yes.”

He turns the phone camera to the cake, and she beams, “Great job. Did you make two?”

“No, the other one was made by my co-worker.”

“They both look great. Which is yours?”

He points to his. “I like the ranunculi on top. I’ve never thought to use them.”

“Thanks, Grams. I better go. I just wanted to show you.”

He really did make this cake…

“Well done, Harvey. I’m proud of you,” she gushes. A pang of longing hits me.

I need to call my mom later.

Harvey’s face softens, a slight blush creeping in.

My anger fades. He’s not only intelligent and thoughtful but also genuinely kind to his family, blurring the lines of my frustration.

Molly cuts the cakes, and we all taste both. I try mine first. It’s lovely and fluffy but a tad drier than usual. Then I taste his and release a tight breath. It’s perfect—light, moist and delicious. I don’t dare look at him, knowing he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. He would’ve tasted mine and known it was a little overcooked.

Molly finishes her tasting, nodding thoughtfully as she looks between the cakes. “You both did a great job,” she starts.

“Who’s the winner?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

She gives me a sympathetic look and turns to Harvey. “Yours wins.”

“Fuck yeah!” He fist-pumps the air, a wide grin spreading across his face. As the phone rings, Molly rushes out to answer it.

I roll my eyes. “Calm down. It’s only a friendly cake competition.”

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