Page 3 of Cupcake
“You’re my hero,” I whispered, relief filling me that I didn’t need to spend three hours here tonight putting the order together.
All Brady did was wink.
Two
Istrolled into mykitchen wearing my Minnesota Twins nightshirt that I’d had since the tenth grade. It was almost paper-thin and had a few chocolate ice cream stains, but nothing else that I owned was as comfortable for a warm summer night. I grasped the handle on the fridge, ready for a glass of wine after a long day, but the red X on the calendar caught my eye again. “You don’t own me,” I whispered, sticking my tongue out at the offending paper.
Unfortunately, that red X did own me. It taunted me, and I regretted having the idea to mark my thirtieth birthday that way. If I’d just left the box empty, I could walk by it forever and pretend it didn’t exist—the same way I’d done for the last twenty-nine years. That was much harder to do when it had a giant red slash through it.
My head fell back until I was staring at the ceiling. I’d been doing this for six months now. The whole point of the red X was to motivate me to make time for a personal life. The last eight years my sole focus had been on the business and it was time to change that. It was time to find my soulmate. I’d dated with gusto since January second, but so far, I’d struck out. All of the guys I’d dated thus far could barely tie their shoes.
There’d been Tim who had significant commitment issues to the point he couldn’t decide if he wanted chicken or beef tacos. Then there was Shawn, who spilled his beans on my pants and spent the rest of the date telling people I’d pooped myself. Most would think that date would hold up in the record books as the worst, but they hadn’t met Jerry yet.
I shuddered and blocked him from my mind. All the guys I dated this year taught me one thing. Sometimes, a vibrator is all a girl needs to mind her business. “Alexa,” I said, waiting for the voice to fill the small apartment.
“What can I help you with today, Henlee?”
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt my brain. I’d given up on getting her to say my name correctly after the first year. “Add a new calendar to the shopping list.”
“I’m sorry, Henlee, you previously added a calendar to your list of not allowed items. Would you like me to remove it from that list?”
I sighed heavily.
“I did not understand your response, Henlee.”
“Alexa, stop,” I muttered, opening the door and grabbing a giant bottle of prosecco.
Pouring a glass, I stuck my tongue out at the red X. Mature, right? I didn’t much care. I was exhausted, and another long day of baking was already lined up for tomorrow. Since tomorrow was Sunday, our hours were limited, but I had special orders to get ready for Monday morning. It was the beginning of June, and that was prime tourist and wedding season in Lake Pendle. If I didn’t stay on top of things, I’d crash and burn faster than a race car with three tires.
As much as I hated to admit it, without Brady, I’d be screwed. He had worked at the bakery for almost seven years now and was a talented baker in his own right. “If only he didn’t constantly call me cupcake,” I muttered, lowering myself to the couch and grabbing the remote. A glass of wine and a little bit of Netflix would relax me enough to get some sleep before heading back to the bakery at four a.m.
The doorbell rang, and I glanced at the clock. It was almost eight o’clock, and I didn’t order any food, though my brain suddenly decided that pizza would be welcome. I sighed at my glass of wine and hoisted myself off the couch. With an eye stuck to the peephole, I saw the distorted image of my best friend. She waited impatiently on the postage-stamp-sized landing at the top of the long stairway to my apartment. I opened the door and was immediately greeted by a warn nighttime breeze that rustled Amber’s hair.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the apartment.
“Nice to see you, too,” Amber said, laughing. “Nothing is wrong. I just thought I’d come over for girls’ night. Is that a problem?”
