Page 15 of Red, White, and You

“So you made cake?”

“I make cake when I think. It’s a process.” Her voice softens. “That’sRed, White, and You.”

Something warm flickers in my chest.

“The red is strawberry,” she continues, her words speeding up like she’s afraid she won’t get them all out. “Safe. Predictable. The white’s cream cheese frosting—classic. Expected. And theyou…” Her cheeks flush. “Salted caramel. It shouldn’t work, but it does. It’s the part that surprises you.”

Oh. Theyouis me.

“Will you stay?” I ask. “Just for a few minutes?”

She meets my eyes, visibly hesitating—and then nods. “Okay. But only because I want your honest opinion on the flavor profile.”

I lead her into the aggressively quaint kitchen, the one the rental company called “cozy cottage with character.” Gigi eyes the floral wallpaper and abundance of ceramic roosters with a raised brow.

“Interesting decor.”

“They’re going for a look,” I say, grabbing two forks. “I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”

She slides into a chair at the kitchen table. “The wallpaper is kind of pretty. But the roosters are another story.”

I grin at her. “Shhh. They can hear you.”

I hand her a fork, and we sit next to each other at kitchen table. I cut off a bite, being sure to get a nice cake-to-icing ratio, and pop it into my mouth.

It tastes as good as it looks—sweet strawberry, tangy frosting, and that salty caramel tying everything together.

“This is incredible,” I tell her.

“Not too salty?”

“Nope.” I take another bite. “The caramel is salty, but it cuts the sweetness perfectly. I love it.”

“Sometimes you have to push it to the edge to get the good stuff,” she says quietly.

We eat in silence for a few minutes. It’s the kind of silence that feels like a decision instead of an accident.

Then Gigi asks, “What made you come to Honeysuckle Ridge?”

My heartrate kicks up a notch. “What do you mean?”

“You still live in Louisville, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Joe and Ella will be returning for training camp in a couple of weeks, right? So, did you really come just to visit them?”

Now’s the time to tell her that her parents asked me to come.

But even that’s not the whole answer.

I chew slowly, considering. “Honestly? I needed to get away. After the Super Bowl, everything got… loud. Press, endorsements, nonstop interviews. I needed to find some peace, you know? And Joe’s always talking about how wonderful Honeysuckle Ridge is.”

“Did you find it? Peace?”

I look at her, really look at her. Her hair’s a mess, she’s got frosting on her shirt, and she’s never looked more beautiful. “I’m getting closer.”

Our eyes meet, and a faint blush creeps up her cheeks.

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