Page 78 of A Teaspoon of Desire
“Like what? You don’t need to hear that I’m proud of you. Not for this. There’s a hundred things I’m proud of you for every day. Cooking is down on the bottom of the list, no offense meant. But I suppose itison the list. I’ll be prouder when you win.”
“I guess I have to win, then.” He smiled even though she couldn't see it. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine. You don’t have to keep asking me. I’m not going back to him, and he’s behind bars. I’ll have to see him in court, but since the restraining order I just got is miraculously still in place, that’s all.”
“God, would you believe I missed your sarcastic side?”
“Yeah... me too. I was catty as hell in my head. Tried a few times out loud, but Robert made itclearhe didn’t appreciate that. No matter how hilarious I was.”
Tristan resisted a sharp gasp.Stay upbeat, stay light.“Hilarious? I see you’re as humble as ever too.”
“I’m being a realist. So, how did stuff go with the whole Willa, Henry, listening-to-your-baby-sister ordeal?”
“What do you want to hear, how brilliant you are?”
“It wouldn’t hurt my feelings. I take it things went well?”
“Well enough that Henry and I are planning on some champagne for the evening.” He winked at Henry. “All right, go back to your chick flicks, and tell Karen I’ll kill her if she lets this slip.”
“No problem, will do. Oh, and you should call Carlita. She’s constantly on the phone here, trying to find out how long it’s going to be until you’re back. Doesn’t want to call you and distract you with those worries, since you’re out there doing publicity for her, but she’s anxious. Apparently the pastry chef she brought in while you were gone is... How did she put it? ‘A goddamn waste of flesh and buttercream.’”
“I’ll call her tomorrow at a reasonable hour, but if she gets to you before I get to her, let her know I’ll be home inside a week.”
“I have something to tell her. Awesome.” She sighed. “And I’m glad you’re coming back soon. I make major life changes and I don’t get to celebrate with my big brother. That’s fucked up.”
“Maybe next time you won’t send him off on the best baking adventure of his life.”
“Maybe next time I won’t. Now let me go watch my movies.”
“You got it.” Tristan hung up the phone and smiled. Lucia was herself again. This was the sister he’d grown up with.
“So, do you know how to open champagne?” Henry wiggled the bottle at him. “I feel like there’s a good chance I might blow my head off with the cork if I try, but you do wedding stuff and ...” Another bottle wiggle.
“Wedding stuff has nothing to do with this. FYI.” Tristan snatched the bottle and set it aside. “Ice first, because room-temp champagne is going to explode everywhere. Period. But I’ll open it for you when the time comes. A champagne cork doesn’t have enough force to kill, but it would be such a shame for you to get a black eye right before the final. What would all the pretty girls think?”
“Pretty girls? We’re not teenage heartthrobs, we’re pastry chefs.” Henry scooted over and draped himself across Tristan. “And, believe it or not, I don’t care what the pretty girls say, regardless. I wouldn’t even if Iwasa teenage heartthrob.” He kissed Tristan on the cheek. “I’ve already found somebody much prettier.”
“Oh, I’m the pretty one. Cool, I never get to be the pretty one in the relationship.”
Henry rolled his eyes, then rose from the bed. “I’ll get the ice, but wearehaving champagne tonight. At least one glass.”
“Agreed. Flip the thingy so the door stays open.”
Henry wandered back out and Tristan pulled the sheet of paper the crew had given him from the nightstand drawer. It was a long, grueling day they had coming. Cheesecake: six hours. Angel food cake: four hours. And a giant, “whatever you want” round: seven hours. With breaks to reset and all the extra filming, they’d be looking at nearly twenty hours of straight-up work to get through everything. Maybe more, depending on what other kind of shit the network had planned to make the finale big and exciting. Tristan would have to bring two cigarettes... maybe three.
Henry came back with the ice bucket full. “Okay, champagne time in, like, an hour?”
“Champagne time in an hour. Perfect. Gives me time to wheedle you for information on what you’re making for the grand finale.”
“Oh, so we’re all done playing with honor? After signing all those extra disclosure agreements?” Henry shoved a bottle of champagne into the ice bucket—Tristan had already lost track of whose was whose—then flopped onto the bed next to Tristan. “What’ll it be, then? Car battery to the nipples? Waterboarding? Branding?”
“Easy, now. We’ve only had two dates so far, if you count that dinner at Bluestone Lotus. We can get to the nipple electrocution after three dates.”
“Should I hold you to that?”
“Hey, I’m notpromising.” Tristan nuzzled against the nape of Henry’s neck, seeking out that pulse of warmth, and took in a deep breath of flour and coconut. It was Henry. Everything was Henry. “I’m just putting it on the table, but I’m damn sure not slutty enough to gothatfar before the third date.”
“You keep saying we’ve been on two dates. I’m only recalling the Bluestone Lotus.”
