Page 19 of The Cupcake Standard

“I knew I’d like you as soon as I laid eyes on you, Miss.” He helped me in, tipped his hat and shut the door behind me.

The girls claimed the forward-facing seat, all tucked together, a formidable if overly perfumed wall. Fawnda poured champagne into flutes.

“None for me. Thanks.” I pushed a few buttons, finding the one that rolled down the divider. “Greg? Do you have something stronger than champagne back here?”

His eyebrows went up, but he gave me directions for a barrel-aged whiskey, imported directly from Ireland. Perfect. Liquid courage, as Daddy would say. I could use about a gallon of that right about now.

“I’ll let you know when we’re ready for lunch.” Once I’d poured myself three fingers and taken a sip in his general direction, I rolled the window back up. “Now, ladies, let’s begin.”

I’d been through interrogations before. Gina was a pro. But she was small potatoes compared to this lot. If it hadn’t been for my mother dragging me on her book tour all across the country, I probably would have cracked. The only other good thing from that ordeal. Instead, I sipped my whiskey and answered everything they threw at me, the questions coming rapid fire, one after another. All from Rhonda herself.

“How long have you two been together?”

What did we tell Yolanda? “A couple weeks.”

“How’d you two meet?”

I wanted to stick as close to the truth as possible. “He helped me get out of dinner with my mother.”

“Why’d you move in with him?”

“My apartment building caught on fire, and he offered.” There was no way in hell I was telling her my former apartment was condemned. I made a mental note to fill Derek in on that cover story.

“Your mother is Mabel Milbourne?”

I nodded, sipping my whiskey.

“But you work?”

Another nod, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The silence stretched on, telling me I wasn’t getting out of it without giving her something more. “My mother and I aren’t on the greatest of terms. I accept her help with schooling but try to support myself in other areas.” I thought that was sufficient.

Finally, after all the tap dancing and tiptoeing around, we came to the heart of the matter. Rhonda looked me dead in the eye. “When did you find out about the money?”

Rich people are so paranoid. “Our first date. We went to breakfast, discussing our backgrounds, and he told me flat out.” I took a sip of whiskey. “As I’m sure Kevin already told you, I’m not a gold digger. My mom is a minor celebrity in her own right, and we were upper middle class before that.” Shrugging wasn’t ladylike, but I did it anyway. “I’m not in this for the money.”

“So why are you in this?” Her gaze was piercing.

I blinked at her as if she were daft. Which quite possibly she was. “Have you seen your brother?” I pictured him. “Tall, dark, handsome. It’s a cliché for a reason, honey. And those muscles are absolutely delicious. Him in a towel is one thing, but without?” More whiskey.

“Has a guy ever left his own birthday party to visit you in the hospital?” My question was met with blank stares. “Then he brought me to his home to take care of me. He made sure his place was stocked with all my favorite foods. He’s thoughtful, caring and he gets me in a way that no one has before.” My voice caught on the last word, the truth causing more pain than any lie ever could. If I ever do end up dating, how can anyone come close to this fake boyfriend of mine?

Before they had a chance to say any more, I rolled down the divider. “Greg, I believe I’m ready for lunch.”

Derek did not disappoint. The outside of The Gilded Lily was beautiful, all marble and sparkling in the sun. When Greg opened our door, I saw Fawnda’s jaw drop for a split second before she caught herself. Yolanda and Rhonda shared a skeptical look as if I were above my station to even think I’d get in. Anxiety skittered across my belly when I approached the podium and clearly stated my name. Any place with this much gold-plating made me want to tuck my tail and run.

But the hostess just smiled, gathered four menus, and said, “Right this way, Miss Milbourne.”

The indignant look on the Musketeers’ faces made it worth all the hassle. Our food tasted divine, even if the portions were tiny. I marveled at the soft linen tablecloth, the fine cloth napkins and the heft of the silverware. There were three forks. The service was immaculate, and I took care of everyone’s lunch with one signature. Relieved to have made it through the meal without any huge fiasco, I led them back to the limo.

Before I climbed in, I murmured to Greg, “One extra block, if you please.”

His eyes took on a knowing glint as he assessed my battle-ready face. “Of course, Miss Avery.”

The simpering compliments on lunch finally died down.

And I charged. “I’m very glad we finally had a chance to get acquainted and clear the air a bit, so to speak.” I deliberately poured another couple of fingers of whiskey. “Each of you has known my boyfriend much longer than I have, and I respect that. I would never ask him to give up his friendships.” Sip. “Or his family.” Sip. “Even if they are toxic, demanding more of him than humanly possible, and giving nothing in return.” Sip, this time I added an extra moment to meet each of their wide-eyed stares.

“I would, however, caution anyone who wants to take advantage of my boyfriend, emotionally, financially, socially.” Sip. I glanced pointedly down at my well-manicured nails. “Just one little puff can make a whole house come tumbling down. Especially if it’s a house of cards. And I control which way the wind blows now.”

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