Page 109 of The Contract

It’s not just dessert. It’s an experience.

Every element has a purpose—the bittersweet intensity of the chocolate, the bold, velvety espresso, the buttery, crisp crust, and the final touch… the caramel, slow-cooked with the perfect balance of sugar and sea salt, drizzled over the top in elegant swirls.

I know how to make people crave something they never even knew they needed.

And for the first time all day, I feel like I have control over something.

“It’s fine,” I say, feigning optimism. “It’s just a building, right? I’ll find something else.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Eve counters, her voice laced with knowing. “You wanted that place.”

I inhale sharply, my grip tightening on the spoon as I swirl another pass of caramel.

“Yeah,” I admit, my voice dropping, letting the truth slip through the cracks. “I did.”

There’s a pause on the other end, the quiet understanding only a best friend can give.

Then, softer, “I’m sorry, babe. That fucking sucks.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yeah. It does.”

But what else is there to say?

She doesn’t offer false optimism or try to sugarcoat it. She knows me too well for that.

Instead, she lets out a slow exhale. “So… you baking it out?”

A small smile touches my lips. “What else?”

“Cheesecake?”

“You know it.”

Eve hums approvingly. “That’s my girl. What kind?”

I glance down at the glossy surface, the delicate swirls of caramel gleaming in the warm kitchen light. “Dark chocolate espresso with salted caramel.”

Eve whistles low. “Damn. You’re pulling out the big guns.”

I scrape the last bit of batter into the pan, smoothing it to perfection before placing it in the oven. “Figured I’d make something indulgent enough to distract me from the soul-crushing disappointment of my life.”

Eve snorts. “That sounds dramatic.”

“It’s cheesecake, Eve. It demands drama.”

“Fair.”

A beat of silence stretches between us, not uncomfortable, just… there.

Then, she sighs. “I wish I could say something that would make you feel better.”

I lean against the counter, looking at the cheesecake sitting in the oven.

“You already did.”

lean against the counter, the oven’s warmth pressing against my legs.

“You already did.”

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