Page 7 of Sugar, Sprinkles, and Secrets
Exhausted from having my life dictated to me instead of having the freedom to pursue what—and who—I want. The truth stays locked up though, as I plaster on my best fake-it-until-you-make-it grin. “Hey yourself. I’m great! What can I get you today?”
“Can I get a blueberry muffin and a large dark roast with cream to go, please? Oh, and can you also throw in a couple madeleine cookies for my assistant? If I bribe her with sugar, sometimes she’s nicer to my schedule.”
“You got it, coming right up! You guys brought quite the crowd today. Busy day?” I ask as I pull his muffin and cookies then put them in a to-go container. “Or was it an early holiday party maybe?”
“I’m actually not sure. I think most of these people were in town for some meeting about an upcoming film project, which thankfully is not in my wheelhouse.” He grins at me again and the pull is almost tangible. I want to reach out and touch him, hug him, run my hands through his hair, pull his face into mine, and kiss the ever-loving daylights out of him. Yank him up the stairs, push him into my apartment, and maul him like a tiger.
“Cara?” His eyes darken like he just read my mind.
“Huh? What? Sorry.” I can feel my face warm with blush, which only makeshim laugh.
“I was just saying, if you aren’t doing anything, I’d love to take you to dinner tonight.”
“I’ll have Dante and Mila.”
“Yeah, I thought we could all go get pizza. It’s been a while…”
I wish we could. I would wish on every star in the sky if I thought it would help make that a reality. “I can’t tonight, but … uh, maybe another time, yeah?” I don’t want to brush him off, but the warm sting of tears behind my eyes tells me that I need to extract myself from this situation and quick.
“Hey, Betty. Can you ring Max up for me? I need to check those cookies.” Betty gives me the look that tells me she knows exactly what I’m doing—and I suspect Max himself even knows there are no cookies in the oven right now. She doesn’t say anything, just swoops in to save the day with a kind smile. “Have a great day, Max, thanks for stopping in!”
As if a fire is on my heels, I whip around and rush into the kitchen. But I don’t stop at the ovens to check on the hypothetical cookies that are not baking, and my sneakers squeak on the black glitter epoxy floor as I pass the coolers before ducking into the dry storage and pushing the door shut. As my tears escape, I lean against the wall and slide to the floor. Wishes belong in the bedtime stories I read to Dante and Mila, because apart from the two of them and this bakery, that’s as good as my happily ever after will ever get to be.
My phone vibrates in my pocket with an incoming text.
UNKNOWN
Request received. Appointment scheduled for 1730.
At least something good can come out of today. I know Dante and Mila need this, but they aren’t the only ones. I don’t know how long this is going to last, but I am so ready to have my brother back and put this chapter behind us, hopefully, forever. My emotions make my face feel like it’s on fire and I try to calmmy breath. The last thing I need right now is a panic attack from how trapped I feel.
And I am so beyond exhausted of carrying everything on my own, but what other choice do I have?
Me
Window open?
I hate these dumb phrases, but they set the rules, and I have to just follow them. If the window is open, I can see through it, aka we get to video chat. Video chats rarely happen, but they are so helpful for all of us—and I really need this win.
UNKNOWN
Closed.
Dammit. I kick a massive bag of flour next to me on the floor. I’m not surprised, but it’s so frustrating to have to explain to the kids why they can’t just pick up the phone and see their dad. That text did not help the frustrated tears running down my face that I can’t swipe away fast enough.
UNKNOWN
Correction. Windows will be open.
Thank God for small miracles and early Christmas presents. I don’t know why that changed, but the pressure in my chest lifts just enough for me to take a proper breath.
It’s been close to four months since we’ve been allowed a video call, but tonight, I finally get to see mylittle brother.
“Okay, remember, if your daddy has to go, we can’t make him feel bad, okay? This is the best we can do right now, so let’s try and just enjoy this call, okay?” I coach Dante and Mila, but I know it may all be in vain because at five and three, they’re going to do whatever they want. They humor me and nod as we wait for the iPad to connect to the secure video call link I received fifteen minutes ago. We aren’t supposed to ask questions about where he is, or how long he will be gone, or anything specific to the case, but trying to explain that to a three-and-five year-old is challenging.
“Hey, I thought I was seeing my kids. Who is that little man and little lady?” My brother’s voice echoes through the speakers before our video connects, and as soon as his face comes on the screen, I can’t help the tears that start. Shit. I was trying to keep it together. “Ciao sorella mia. What’s wrong?” His eyebrows scowl quickly, as though he can jump through the screen and throttle anyone that upset me. I may be the older sibling, but you would never know with how Luca behaves. We both have the same darker skin and features, but he has our mother’s dark blonde hair, which apparently, he has been growing out longer since the last time we saw him.
“Ciao fratellino mio. No, no, va tutto bene.” Everything is far from good, but there’s no point in diving into that right now. “It’s just so good to see you, Luca.” I tug Mila into my lap who is looking apprehensive at the screen and watching how Dante reacts.
