I stare at him, wide-eyed and too shocked to speak. Whatever I attempt to say comes out a squeak. The rest of the tasting continues, and I barely participate. I’m stuck on the fact I’m apparently engaged and suddenly pregnant. It’s not the engagement that has me speechless, but the nonexistent pregnancy. I’ve always wanted a baby, and abruptly, the thought of actually having one seems almost…real.

Except I haven’t had sex in more than six months.

Pretty sure a baby at this point would be a miracle.

“This is so exciting,” Jasmine sings, and I don’t dispute her claim.

Well, not really her claim.

Latham’s.

He’s sitting over there, all cocky and proud, and wearing a smirk while he boosts about how amazing the cake samples are. I’m sitting here, pissed as hell as he ruined this cake-infused moment, and now worried I’m carrying a few extra pounds in the waist area. Just goes to show how low he’d stoop to have the final say.

Or the property.

He’s getting in my head, and I can’t have that. I need to stand strong and not wobble under his brand of meanness. I can outsmart anything Mr. Latham Douglas throws at me. I mean, he used cake to his benefit today and look where that got me? Engaged and apparently pregnant.

Asshole.

He may have won this round, but he won’t win the war.

* * *

I can’t help but giggle as I click enter, confirming my order for first thing Friday morning. The express two-day shipping costs a small fortune, but it’ll be worth it. Except, I won’t be able to see the look on his face when he opens it.

Pity.

I’ll just settle for the satisfaction of knowing I got him way better than his stupid cake/fake wedding/surprise baby joke yesterday. Which, by the way, took me a while to convince Jasmine that I wasn’t knocked up with Satan’s spawn. The engagement? Well, I left that fight to deal with another day.

Now, I’m standing at my fancy new laptop, a wide smile on my face, and ready to flip the open sign for the day. The sun is shining, the weather is perfect late-July weather on the beach, and I have a date for Saturday night.

Yes, you hear me right.

A date.

It happened last night when I was leaving the gym. I had to run an extra mile and row my ass off to burn the calories from yesterday morning’s cake-fest. Do I regret it? Not for a second. I could have done with a little less Latham, but the cake was amazing, so sometimes, you have to take the bad with the good.

Anyway, back to my date. When I was finished working out, freshly showered, and heading to the small beverage counter for a smoothie, one of the regulars stopped me and bought my drink. We chatted for a few minutes, and that’s when Skyler asked me out. At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to accept his invitation. I mean he’s a little older than me (not a big deal, really) and is recently divorced (also, not a huge deal either), but for some reason, I hesitated.

Am I ready to date? It has been half a year since I was in a relationship with the spineless bastard known as Joey Trudeau. It wouldn’t hurt me to go out and enjoy a drink or meal with someone of the opposite sex who isn’t family. Although, I have to admit, I’m not sure Skyler is the right guy for my return visit into dating.

That’s when I saw Latham.

He was standing in the gym, just over Skyler’s shoulder, and he was talking to one of the barely legal gym bunnies who show up every day in itsy bitsy workout attire and take selfies on all the equipment. All the guys drool all over them, and apparently, Latham is no different.

So, I glanced back at Skyler, his mustache starting to turn gray at the lip, and say yes.

And now I have a date on Saturday night, and I won’t think about Latham at all.

My email dings with a notification, which turns out to be my order confirmation for my Latham gift. This is me, not thinking about him. To be fair, I vowed not to give him a thought on Saturday. I didn’t say anything about today. As I peruse over my order confirmation, a smile spreads across my face.

This is going to be the best gift ever!