Page 121 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“Of course I do. But Adam can’t do it. He’s finally bringing Sarah by for us to meet. And there’s nothing I love better than seeing my babies smitten, besotted, and—”
“Mom.”
“The internet says kittens sleep for twenty-two hours a day. You have the experience. You can go reassure Mrs. Miller you’ll know what to do to get the little furball settled, and then tomorrow once the cat’s asleep, you can just drive on up. Wewon’t even be through appetizers, but even if we are, dessert is your favorite part of any meal.”
Arguing is ludicrous. Molly McKinney is unstoppable. “I’ll go, but not tonight.”
“But—”
“Are you planning on starting the festivities before noon?”
“No, but—”
“Then I’ve got time to swing by in the morning.”
“Fine. I suppose that will give you time to make a dessert tonight.”
I change out of my FroggoDoggo attire into a strappy tent dress—maximum breathability but still pretty. “What?”
“I need you to bring a dessert tomorrow. Adam said he and Sarah had it covered, but you know how your brother is in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, okay, Mom. I’ll get right on it.”
“Bring Mike Benedick with you tomorrow.”
Not a chance. “Bye, Mom.” I hang up, slip on some flats, and head out to my patio with my tote bag in hand.
“Mike,” I yell across the fence. As nice as indefinitely avoiding Mike sounds, I honestly don’t have time at the moment to play games. Stores are going to be closing soon. “I want cake. Thick slabs of it.”
“No, you don’t,” Mike yells. “Any cake that comes in a slab isn’t worth your time.”
I beg to differ. “What are you, a cake snob?”
“No, I’m just not into garbage.”
I storm through the gate and straight into Mike. “Careful,” he says, bringing a gentle hand up to steady me.
I quickly back away and maintain a safe distance. “I’m fine.”
Mike’s brow furrows, like he’s confused or hurt.
Oh gosh, he’s still gorgeous. But I don’t think gorgeous is enough of a foundation to attempt a relationship. “I found your keys.” I toss him his spare set.
“Keep ’em.” He tosses them back. “I made other sets. Even stuck one in my medicine cabinet. You’ll never be locked out again.”
What I hear is,You’ll never sleep over again.And that’s fine, except it isn’t. Oh gosh, I need to change the subject before I burst into flames. “Well…I should wash your mouth out with soap. Cake is never garbage.”
“After you’ve had my grandma’s Swiss black forest cake, anything else that tries to call itself cake is garbage.”
“Ugh.” I can’t handle it. He might as well be his grandmother. Everything I love about Mike comes back to her, and it is weirding me out. “Adam is into that whole home-baking scene, and even when they turn out, it’s never as good as the cakes I can buy premade from the bakery aisle.”
“Oh, Bea. It explains so much. Come on.” Mike locks his back door.
“You asking me out?” I follow him down the stairs to the garage.
He laughs, and I swear there’s a nervous edge to it. “I’m curing you of the ails of your childhood and freeing you from the demons of your past.” He opens the passenger door of his truck. “Get in.”
We drive, awkwardly alternating between stilted conversation and stiff silence, to a bakery in Point Loma that looks like it invented the phrasehole-in-the-wall.
