The thrown hands and glares when he’d mentioned her one day told me whoever she was, she was bad news—and she was here to stay. And I didn’t need to put my heart on the line up against another girl. I wasn’t exactly the girl guys fought over. I was the one they settled on dancing with when my much prettier sister or friend was taken. The consolation prize. But I couldn’t be that with him. I’d rather stand on the sidelines than jump into the game and get pulverized.
Protect my heart. Figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life. And not get any crazy ideas during this weekend with Berk, especially while in a vulnerable place. Actually, I should just cancel. It was better to cancel on him than endure whatever my mom and sister had in store for me this weekend.
Berk may not see me as an option, but I didn’t want him to see my mother and sister turn me into a victim, and they had a nasty habit of turning me into their whipping post whenever we got together.
Hence me avoiding that as much as possible.
What the hell had come over me, allowing Berk to come?
I spun on my heel to walk across the street. I’d rather Berk not witness the impending emotional blood bath. I’d hidden from my mom and Laura for nearly six months—other than that drive-by invite. The pent up shitty-things-to-say-to-Jules dam had to be overflowing. Halfway across the street, my phone buzzed. I whipped it out and answered it immediately, primed for Avery’s call.
But that wasn’t until tomorrow.
“Julia.”
Mom’s voice was like a full glass of ice water to my face.
“Yes, Mom.”
“I’m double-checking on everything for tomorrow. I’ll be meeting everyone at Kelland, but I wanted you to know that even with your late rsvp we’ve got a room big enough for you and your friend. Laura mentioned it in passing, but I wanted to double-check that you’re actually bringing a guest.” She said the word like it was something made up that most likely didn’t exist.
“Absolutely, Mom.”
“A friend, of course.”
What would be so outlandish about someone wanting to date me? My blood pressure soared as my pride screamed. “No. He’s my date. I have a date.” The words came out and were met with a thunderous silence I felt the need to fill. “Laura was one hundred percent correct. Berk’s my date. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”
Ha! For once I’d stood up to her judgy misconception, her baiting of me. I wasn’t a loser, I had a date! I’d locked in Berk’s presence to the party and… Oh god, I’d said the words ‘we’ve been dating!’
I resisted the urge to scream into the phone. My heart thudded in my chest and I scrambled to figure out a way to backpedal, take the lies back. It was like I’d had an out of body experience and started spewing all that stuff to save face.
“It took quite a bit of arranging and rearranging, so I do hope he’ll be there.”
I stared up at Berk’s window and my shoulders sank. Backing out now would bring on even more of a shitstorm with my mom, especially if her plans were thrown out of whack.
“Yes, of course we’ll be there. Berk is so excited to finally meet my family.” What are you saying?! Shut up! “He wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good.”
“I wanted to ask you about the Peter Rabbit books.” The ones I kept asking about and never got a response to. Dad had drawn little doodles in the corner of some of the pages of the books we’d read together. They were an irreplaceable part of my childhood and memories of him.
Dead silence on her end.
“It would mean a lot to me.”
“Now is not the time. I’m not going to search through those old boxes now, Julia. We’re focusing on Laura at the moment. I can’t believe how selfish you are. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
End of call. My heart gave three thumps of sadness over the books before horror of my embellishments with Berk came rushing back in.
Oh my god. What the hell did I do now? I dragged my fingers through my hair.
Well, shit. I stood in the middle of the road until a set of headlights rolled over me. Canceling now wasn’t an option. I could just hear her digs all weekend at how sad it was that I was there alone after making such a big deal about ‘making room’ for Berk. I couldn’t take that on top of the whole Chet situation. Now was not the time to hyperventilate.
I shuffled off the street, closed myself up in my house and made a beeline straight to the kitchen. I flipped through my recipe cards, triple-checked my ingredients. It was going to be a long night ahead.
And in two days, I’d be driven an hour outside the city to a place with no wifi and sharing a room with Berk for two nights. I hefted the ten-pound bag of sugar from my emergency stash. Brown sugar, eggs, and enough flour to feed half the campus. Sugar rush, here I come! I’d need all the help I could get to survive this coming weekend.
5
Jules
I sat in the pastel blue metal chair in the office crowded with baking trays, recipe cards, and bakery boxes. My leg bounced up and down. An employee had led me to the back office and said Avery would be here at any moment. I looked around the room. There were articles framed and hung up on the walls. A picture of Avery with a big guy who had to be her husband sat on her desk. She was in a beautiful and simple white dress and he was in a summer suit and tie.
The place smelled incredible, like my kitchen times ten—minus the lingering mildew smell I hadn’t gotten out after hours of deep cleaning.
I’d walked by all the displays. Donuts, croissants, cupcakes, and a few cookies on trays in the back.
The office door flew open. “So sorry I’m late. I’m—”
“Avery Cunning, I know.” I jumped up and shook her outstretched hand with way too much force.
She was jerked forward and braced her hand on her desk.
I cringed and let go, sitting back in the chair, balancing the folder with my resume on my lap. Her hair was up on top of her head and she slipped the well-loved apron off her neck and sat it down on the desk in front of her. She had on jeans and t-shirt. Simple and down to earth. I felt a little overdressed in my pants and button-down top.
“And you’re Elle’s friend with the killer skills.”
My cheeks flushed and I tried to keep my breathing under control. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would.” She smiled.
“Nothing like yours. The cakes you make are amazing. The donuts too.”
“I learned from a great teacher. How did you start baking?” She leaned forward, intently focused.
The flames in my cheeks could keep her oven going for days. “My dad loved to bake. He had a big sweet tooth and he was always experimenting, so we spent a lot of time in the kitchen. And I was an annoying little kid, so I wanted to help and he taught me.”
She smiled and it made her eyes sparkle. “Does he still bake? What does he think of what you’re doing?”
I pushed through the lump in my throat. “He died when I was nine.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. My mom passed away when I was eight. We used to bake together too.” A small, sad smile that probably mirrored my own curved her lips. “I can see where the passion comes from.”