Page 33 of The Cupcake Standard

There was a faint quiver under my hand as Derek stifled his laughter. He steered me toward the two imposing people on the opposite couch. “Mom, Dad, may I present my girlfriend, Miss Avery Milbourne.”

I dipped my chin, a polite smile plastered on my face.

“Avery, my father, Malcolm Elgin.”

Holding out my hand, I allowed his father to take it, hoping he wouldn’t kiss it. Because ew.

Luckily, his dad just bowed over it. “A pleasure.”

“And my mother, Harriet Elgin.”

His mom came in for a fake air kiss, placing her perfectly manicured hands on my shoulders. “You are simply delicious, my dear. Where has Derek been keeping you?”

Thank goodness she didn’t require an answer, because how was I supposed to respond to that? Derek guided me to an ornate settee, settling next to me. His arm rested behind my shoulders, fingers playing with a curl that dangled near the nape of my neck.

The butler appeared. “Something to drink, Miss?”

Derek smirked, leaning in to whisper, “Might I suggest the whiskey?”

I nodded.

“We’ll each take a whiskey, Alfred.” When Derek’s dad gave him a surprised look, Derek grinned. “Finally found a woman with taste.”

Rhonda sniffed.

Mrs. Elgin politely went through the list of requisite questions about my life, my goals, my parents, my bloodline…oh maybe that last one was in my head. Then the maid announced dinner was served. Hallelujah!

Except when my plate was revealed, it was all I could do not to gag. Escargots, rubbery snails, on a bed of spinach. I didn’t care how much garlic or butter you drowned them in, they never got chewed up enough to swallow. And steamed spinach wasn’t much better.

I didn’t mind spinach in small doses. But spinach as its own thing, especially steamed? It looked like something a cow had already digested once and smelled about as appealing. At least there was a decent-looking chicken and rice mix as well.

So I began cutting my snails into bits, as I did with my food. I carefully kept the chicken and rice away from the snails and spinach. In between bites of the delicious entrée, I cut and rearranged the gross stuff, hoping it would appear I’d eaten some of everything.

The conversation danced from person to person. It started with Mr. Elgin and his shipping business, particularly a deal he’d just closed. Then Mrs. Elgin chimed in, describing how her latest charity ensured all school-aged children had lunch over the weekends or holidays was taking off. Kevin and Rhonda were busy planning their wedding, so the topic stayed there for quite a while.

I waited for Derek’s turn, wondering what he would say. To my surprise, it never came. Instead, Mr. Elgin started again, telling some story about lunch at the country club.

Frowning, I leaned over to Derek. “What about you?”

He stared at me in shock. “Me?”

I nodded, keeping my voice to a quiet whisper. “Yeah, when is it your turn?” I glanced around the table once more, before returning my gaze to Derek.

His blue eyes held mine for a long moment. “Math doesn’t interest anyone here.”

My words were fierce. “Well, it interests me.”

Mr. Elgin, who had just finished his boring story, glanced over at us. “Did you say something, Avery?”

A quick look around the table showed all focus was on me. “Oh, I just thought Derek should tell everyone about the fascinating work he’s doing at school.” I gave him an encouraging nudge, not letting him say no.

He narrowed his eyes at me, then reluctantly turned to his parents. “Actually, I just turned in a major project last week, Dad. I’ve already got some feedback on it. My professors think I’m onto something, and with a little bit of effort, we could streamline—”

“Mom, did I tell you about the charity idea I had?” Rhonda said, talking right over her brother.

All heads swiveled to her as if Derek weren’t even speaking. Except mine. I watched Derek fold into himself, tucking his ideas away into that hidden compartment I’d worked so hard to drag him out of. Ignoring Rhonda’s chatter, I racked my brain for some way to distract Derek, bring him back from his retreat. First, I started with the physical, brushing a finger over his knuckles, letting him know I was still focused on him.

He didn’t even acknowledge me. No twitch of the lips. No swipe of the thumb.

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