Page 47 of All Twerk, No Play

I choked out a quick thanks before my throat tightened with emotion.

“The vanilla half is done, if you want a sneak preview,” she said, sliding over a plate of half-frosted cookies. I hesitated before lifting the top cookie, tasting the vanilla icing and biting back a moan of pleasure.

“My mom rented space in the West Village to apanetteriathat had the best black and whites,” I said, the hint of lemon in the vanilla spurring the bittersweet memory. “My mom always got a cannoli, and my dad and I split a black and white. He loved the chocolate half, but I always preferred the vanilla.” I took another bite to cut myself off, remembering Dad’s explanation that the black part was him, the darkness, whereas Mom and I were the light of his life. I swallowed that bite, then confessed, “If it was all vanilla, I wouldn’t have had to share.”

Why had I told her that story? Maybe the sweetness of the icing, combined with the thoughtful gesture, had left me a little softer. Without a word, Grace pulled a small bowl out of the refrigerator, picked up an unfrosted cookie and smoothed the entire top with icing.

My stomach twisted in a knot, a dull ache settling as I tried to keep my face steady. She picked up a bottle of wine from the counter. “Do you think blank-and-white cookies go with red?”

“Absolutely.”

She scrambled around a junk drawer, pushing aside spatulas. “Crud, we must have a corkscrew in here.”

I retreated to the foyer to pick up my housewarming basket and returning with an electric wine bottle opener.

Grace’s mouth split into a relieved smile, handing over the bottle as she reached into a cabinet for glasses. “I knew you’d have good taste.”

I poured three glasses, taking a generous sip of the fullest one just as footsteps clattered down the stairs. Ruby re-emerged with freshly combed wet hair wearing a silver and sky blue dress. “Do you like my Elsa dress?”

I admired her puffy sleeves. “It's beautiful. Is she a princess?”

Ruby gasped like I’d confessed to murder. “You don’t knowElsa?”

“Remember, Ruby, Victoria is a busy woman, she hasn’t studied her Disney princesses,” Grace reminded gently. “Could you tell her theFrozenstory?”

Ruby acted out Elsa freezing their city and running away, then her sister chasing her. Alexander stood beside me for the production as she sang about letting go of other people’s expectations and unleashing her full power.

I tilted my head up to him, murmuring, “Reminds me of Nick.”

When Alexander’s younger brother lived with us in Palo Alto, he’d force us to stop working by doing one-man shows of entire scenes fromRomeo & Juliet.

“They sing together over FaceTime. You should hear his rendition of ‘Into The Unknown.’” He chuckled when I shook my head affectionately. “She’s dying to meet him when he comes home in September.”

My head snapped up. “He’s coming here?”

Alexander’s smile softened. “Yeah, this season wraps filming in August, so because of our—”

“Alex!” Ruby said, stomping her foot impatiently. “You’re distracting her.”

His smile was affectionate. “I’m sorry, Princess, go on.”

My heart tightened in my chest, forcing a smile as Ruby performed the scene where Elsa discovered that the secret to melting her frozen city was love. I clapped politely as she took an elaborate bow. “Then, inFrozen 2, Elsa—”

“Let’s save the sequel for after dinner, ok, Princess?” Alexander said, shooing her off to wash her hands.

"Landslide," Fleetwood Mac

Victoria

Afterasurprisinglypleasantdinner over Grace’s frustratingly delicious corn enchiladas, she took Ruby up to bed. Alexander refilled my wine, displaying the label for the Napa vineyard where I’d arranged a private tour to celebrate his 30th birthday. “Come on, let’s take it out front.”

He snagged another black and white cookie before we carried our glasses onto his wrap-around porch and he turned on a small heater. I took a long sip of the Cabernet, remembering sitting beside him in the tasting room and looking out over the vineyard. The wine heated my cheeks and the evening sky gave me the confidence to ask quietly, “Do you miss it?”

I swirled the glass delicately as if releasing the aromas would loosen the heaviness in my chest.

“Yeah, of course, I miss San Francisco. It’s probably mild enough there tonight for a run, whereas here my outdoor workout is shoveling snow,” he grumbled. “But it’s not like we were enjoying it, Victoria. We never went to shows, we ordered takeout more than going to restaurants, we only saw the Bay through our office windows. Everything was focused on work,” he sighed, refilling his glass as one of his elderly neighbors walked a golden retriever down the sidewalk. He held up the empty bottle. “This trip, four years ago? This was the last time we left the city together that wasn’t on business.”

I racked my brain for another vacation … but the only trip that came to mind was that wedding in New York. The one where he dumped me.

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