Page 119 of What I Like About You

A Nash text buzzes in my lap.

See you at 6?

I text back, Duh! But my stomach twists.

We don’t talk about the future of us, if there is a future of us. For Nash, it can’t really be a conversation until the college emails fill our inboxes in two short weeks. For me, it can’t be a conversation until Kels is a conversation. Dread flutters in my stomach, because Gramps has got me thinking about goodbyes, how they sneak up so quickly, and how it’s the first time I’ve even had a home to say goodbye to.

I shake off the cemetery visit with a batch of buttercream frosting.

I dip my pinky finger in the bowl for a taste test.

It’s too sweet.

Into the compost it goes.

Time for take two.

I ended up in the kitchen of Maple Street Sweets without quite meaning to. I knew I needed to bake, and I knew I couldn’t bake at home. Not because Gramps won’t let me. Because Ican’t. Not today. I asked Gramps if I could borrow the car and drove straight to the bakery on my Sunday off.

So here I am, baking trial cupcakes for the Ariel Goldberg event. It’s three weeks away and I’ve been so caught up with Nash, I haven’t even planned for it, like,at all. I scroll through One True Pastry’s Instagram, back to when I did the epic cover reveal. The event cupcakes can’t be identical to the cover reveal—there’s no way, when I need to bake three hundred—but Icanuse it as inspiration.

How did I make the cupcakes look like a crime scene? I can’t remember.

I spend too much time experimenting with food dye like I’m a scientist in a lab, until I achieve the exact swirl of red and gray frosting I need. I fill piping bags and practice swirling frosting until I’m convinced they’re perfect. Because they have to be perfect. These aren’t just cupcakes to post on Instagram, they areAriel Goldbergcupcakes. They need to be the most epic, perfect cupcakes. A mix of flavors that will satisfy all cupcake lovers and frosting that is too pretty to eat. Almost.

Everyone knows me for my cupcake aesthetics.

Now, the taste has to match up.

I didn’t think about that when I agreed to do this, but now it’s all I can think about. What if everyone hates my cupcakes? What if the cake tastes like cardboard and the frosting is too sweet and I thought I could do this, but it’s a disaster?

Also Alyssa Peterson wantsthree hundredcupcakes. I didn’t even consider how I’d make three hundred cupcakes or how to transport them. I didn’t think about getting it all done by myself or the risk of not living up to my brand—I just saidyes.

I’m transferring my first batch of practice cupcakes to a plastic airtight container when the kitchen door swings open behind me. I don’t even bother to turn my attention to the door—Diana and Max have been in and out all afternoon to refill the shelves with the overflow pastries on the cooling racks.

“You okay, Upstate?”

I spin to face Nash and the cupcake in my hand falls to the floor, frosting down.

“Sorry,” Nash says. “I didn’t mean to—um, sorry. You weren’tanswering your texts, so I called Sawyer. He said you’ve been here all afternoon—he sounded worried. And I know Miriam’s unveiling was this morning and that was probably really hard. So I am here! Hi!”

He picks my cupcake off the floor and he is so close to me as Kels right now. He could recognize my cupcakes, recognize the specific frosting colors. He retweeted myRead Between the Liescover reveal. If he took a step back and saw me, I meanreallysaw me and the cupcakes, he could put the pieces together.

For the first time that doesn’t make me tense or panic. This time I want him to.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“After eight,” Nash says.

I blink. “Wait, really?”

Time has no meaning in the kitchen, but I didn’t realize how zoned out I was in the name of One True Pastry. I was supposed to meet Nash for dinner two hours ago.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I don’t know where time went.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, waving off my apology.

“Fun fact: I stress bake,” I say.

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