Page 45 of Fire and Icing

“Sooo …” Vanessa says. “What’s your angle? Did you pay someone? Or is Drew back in town?”

Drew. My ex-boyfriend who left town and never looked back. Leftmewithout a second thought. The one whose family made a point of excluding me from every holiday and special event just to demonstrate their lack of approval of me.

“Drew who?” Syd says. “Do you know a Drew, Emberleigh?”

I smile at her. I love when she goes all mama-bear on my behalf. She’s the living definition of a ride-or-die.

“I think the name rings a bell. No one I know these days.”

“Ha ha,” Vanessa says. “So, what is it? Are you paying someone? That’s against the rules, you know.”

“No. She’s not paying anyone,” Syd says, turning and propping a hand on her now-jutted hip. “Emberleigh is dating someone. He can’t bake to save his life and he’s entering the contest with her.”

“Oh.” Vanessa seems deflated, but only for a moment. “Wait. You have a boyfriend?”

I’d give Syd a scolding if I could, but obviously I need to play along.

“Yes. It’s a newish relationship,” I say, looking Vanessa in the eyes, and then wishing I hadn’t.

“But they’re serious and they are definitely dating—exclusively,” Syd adds. “He’s her partner on and off the baking sheets.”

Oh, Syd. Once she’s on a roll, she’s like a snowball going downhill post-avalanche.

“Reaaallly?” Vanessa draws out the word. “Well, do tell. Who is this partner of yours?”

“Dustin.” His name feels foreign on my tongue.

My face flushes unexpectedly.

“The new rookie fireman?” Vanessa’s eyes go wide.

“Mm hmm.” I nod, afraid to say anything else.

“That’s right,” Syd says proudly. “The fireman. The man who’s built like a tree, only if a tree were one hundred years old and funny and knew how to flirt.”

Vanessa and I both give Syd confused looks.

“You know? A tree … how it gets bigger each year? … Whatever,” Syd huffs. “You know what I mean.”

“The rookie? And you …” Vanessa scoffs. “... are dating?” She looks so flabbergasted.

Is the thought of me and Dustin together so inconceivable?

And like a match to dry paper, that expression of disbelief on Vanessa’s face starts something crackling deep within me, sparking until I’m blazing hot.

“Yes. We’re dating. He brought me dinner the other night, we talked for hours … I even met his family over the phone.”

I rest a hand on my hip in a mirror of Syd’s posture and meet Vanessa’s stare. I should feel triumphant. But I don’t. Not even close.

Vanessa just won this match. She came in here to rile me up and she achieved her goal.

I pour a cold bucket of water on my internal inferno and cool my features.

“It’s new, but it’s …” I begin to amend my previous vehemence.

What is it? What are we?

I think of that night, the one I just flaunted like a cheap T-shirt at a two-for-one sale. It was thoughtful of Dustin to bring me a meal. We crossed some invisible line that evening—actually became friends—and I just threw it in Vanessa’s face. Why? So I could feel better than her? To prove to her that I could date a man like Dustin if I really wanted to? Or, even more, that there would be some way on earth a man like him would possibly be interested in a woman like me?

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