Page 13 of The Cupcake Standard

The spacious apartment had a large living room and an open kitchen divided by an island. A table nestled under a window against the opposite wall and to the left was a hallway.

He nodded to it. “Your room is the first door on the right. Bathroom is the next door on the right. My room’s way down, on the left. I could give you a tour or heat you up some soup?” He raised his eyebrows, those startling blue eyes taking my breath away.

“Um, soup please.” I leaned against the island, trying to recover as he pulled out a can of soup and a bowl. “Actually, let me make it?” I had my own water to soup ratio, and I knew just how hot I liked it.

He smiled, handing me a spoon, then stepped aside. “So generic condensed chicken noodle soup, huh?” It was his turn to lean on the island, his arms folded in front of his trim stomach.

I nodded, a wistful smile crossing my lips as I dumped the contents of the can in the bowl. “I was maybe four or five, and I wasn’t feeling great. We have a cook, Patty, who took care of me when Mom was writing. Daddy worked full-time heading up the safety design team for a big appliance company. For whatever reason, he took care of me that day.” I used the empty can as my measuring cup, filling it half with water then mixed it with the soup. I continued the story as I started the microwave. “He came in for lunch with two trays, saying he had just the thing to make me feel better. Chicken noodle soup and butter sandwiches.”

Derek’s eyebrows lifted. “Butter sandwiches?”

“That’s what he called them.” I chuckled. “I’m assuming Gina had you get saltine crackers and spreadable butter?”

Still looking puzzled, he found the items, setting them on the counter in front of me.

“And a butter knife, please.”

He handed me one, then returned to his spot against the island.

I opened the pack of crackers. Taking one in my hand, I spread a thin layer of butter over it before stacking another cracker on top. “Voila! Butter sandwich.”

Less than impressed, Derek gave me a skeptical look.

“So, Dad and I spent the afternoon eating butter sandwiches, dunked in chicken noodle soup, and watching cartoons.” I loved the way the crackers turned soggy as they soaked up the broth. The hint of butter just made everything richer, more delicious.

The microwave dinged, and I brought everything to the island. “The only problem was the next time I got sick, Patty took care of me. I asked for chicken noodle soup and butter sandwiches.” I glanced at Derek, one corner of his mouth already turning up in a smile as if he anticipated what I was going to say. “She brought me homemade soup and a legit sandwich, with just butter in it. I was not happy.”

His chuckle rumbled between us, his dazzling smile full of amusement. “Did you get it straightened out?”

I nodded, swallowing my mouthful of noodles. “I’m not sure she ever forgave me for choosing generic store brand soup over her homemade version, though.” We both laughed. I ate in contented silence for a few minutes, tiredness washing over me. The warm soup relaxed me even more, and I yawned.

“Maybe you want to rest after this?”

A nap sounded amazing. “Yeah, the whole not sleeping thing is catching up to me.” I finished off my soup, dunking in one more butter sandwich. “How much do I owe you, anyway? For this and the room? This is a really nice place.” Anxiety gripped my stomach at the thought of how much this could actually cost. There was no way I could afford to stay here on my own.

“The food’s on me, a get-well present.” His blue eyes met mine, then darted back to the island. “It was probably a little much, huh? Buying all that for my fake girlfriend.”

I reached across the island, running my fingers over his knuckles like I’d done in the hospital. I waited for him to meet my eyes again. “I thought it was sweet.” Then I let out another yawn.

He smiled once more. “As for rent, let’s talk about it more after you get some sleep, okay? We’ll work it out.”

The anxiety lessened. Yeah, he’s doing me a favor, but he doesn’t seem like the type who’ll lord it over me. Not like Mother. “All right.” I moved to take care of my dishes, but he stopped me with a gentle hand on my wrist.

“I’ve got this. You get some sleep. First door on the right, remember?”

I swallowed, confronted once more with the brilliant blue eyes that made me forget everything. All I could do was nod.

My room was beautiful, fully furnished with better furniture than my old apartment ever dreamed of. My sheets and comforter were there, though, cozy and welcoming, the bed all made up for me. Too tired to look further, I sank onto the mattress, pulling the covers to my chin.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up to a white textured ceiling that definitely wasn’t the hospital’s or my apartment’s. I didn’t immediately remember where I was. Then I heard voices—deep, male voices. I relaxed when I recognized Derek’s. I’d left my door cracked open, and the voices carried in, one in particular louder than the rest.

“I’m sure she’s something, but Derek has carried a torch for Princess forever. You really think he’s going to just give that up for some random girl?”

Incoherent murmuring was the answer. I crept across the room, wanting to hear more.

“He dated a princess?”

“No, you idiot. That’s just her nickname.” There was a pause. A pair of angry footsteps stormed down the hall, followed by a slamming door. “The rest of you were here when he swore his undying love for her. You all witnessed it. It wasn’t just some careless fling—it was the real deal.”

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