Hold fiancée, check.
There doesn’t seem to be any passion in the embrace.
Any need to be close.
And I hate to admit it, but the way he has his hand pressing into my arm, bringing me up to his shoulder, it almost feels suffocating.
“She’s been wanting me to propose to you for a bit.” Did Brian propose because his mother suggested it?
This hold, this moment, it doesn’t feel right.
This, him, us . . . for the first time since I’ve met him, it doesn’t feel right.
Chapter Seven
BREAKER
Lia: You never told me where you’re headed tonight. Care to share with a soon-to-be-married old hag?
Breaker: You know, with that ratty old robe you like to wear still, you do resemble the true definition of an old married hag.
Lia: I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.
Breaker: You need to up your standards.
Lia: So where are you going?
Breaker: I don’t want to tell you.
Lia: Why not . . . wait, is it embarrassing?
Breaker: No, but you’re going to give me shit for it, and I don’t want to hear it, so I’d rather pretend I didn’t tell you and move on.
Lia: Breaker Pickle Cane, you tell me what you’re doing with Birdy this very instant. I demand it.
Breaker: Oh, you demand it?
Lia: Yes, on the fake breasts of Mrs. Doubtfire, if you don’t tell me, I’m going to do something to your apartment when you’re gone, and you’ll have no idea what it is because it will be so subtle that you wouldn’t even notice.
Breaker: Firstly, we NEVER swear on Mrs. Doubtfire’s breasts, that’s . . . that’s just criminal. Secondly, DON’T YOU DARE touch a thing.
Lia: Do you really think your capital letters will deter me?
Breaker: They should. There’s venom behind them.
Lia: I’m unfazed.
Breaker: You’re a tyrant. These demands are impossible to live with.
Lia: Just tell me. Pleeeeeeeeeease.
Breaker: You’re annoying.
Lia: I know, now stop avoiding the topic and just tell me what you’re doing tonight.
Breaker: Fine. We’re going to some cupcake class that her friend is teaching. Her friend wanted to fill the classroom to show her boss she’s valuable, so Birdy recruited me.
Lia: A cupcake class? But . . . you hate baking.
Breaker: I’m well aware.
Lia: Like you hate baking so much, you refused to put icing on your toaster strudel. Your exact words were “I want nothing to do with the process. Just put it in my mouth.”
Breaker: See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.
Lia: I’m just stunned is all. I didn’t know Birdy mattered that much to you.
Breaker: She sounded desperate. She pleaded to the nice guy. What was I going to say? I don’t bake?
Lia: That’s what you would have told me.
Breaker: You’re different.
Lia: If that’s the case. Can we take a baking class to learn how to make a wedding cake?
Breaker: That would be a hard no.
Lia: You don’t love me!
Breaker: Shut up. You know I love you more than anything.
Lia: More than your Star Wars stamp collection?
Breaker: Of course. I stuck that in storage. Clearly, it doesn’t mean that much to me.
Lia: More than your Jack Skellington mug?
Breaker: Naturally. I love the mug, but I don’t see it every day like I see you.
Lia: Okay . . . do you love me more than your signed Lord of the Rings poster?
Breaker: Oooo, now you’re testing me. How about this, you come in a close second.
Lia: Oddly, I accept this.
Breaker: LOL. Okay, Birdy’s here. Have to go.
Lia: Have fun! Send me pictures.
“I know this was kind of out of the blue, but thank you for agreeing to come with me,” Birdy says as she ties on her apron.
Mine is already on, and I desperately want to strip it off me.
I hate aprons.
I hate flour and sugar.
I hate spatulas.
I hate oven mitts.
I hate everything on the table in front of me.
Nothing about baking is magical to me. Not a single thing. The only great thing about the act of baking is the result, but I would rather purchase the result than make it myself. There are too many risk factors making it terrible that I’m not willing to take a chance on.
Just buy . . . always buy.
“Not a problem,” I say with a smile, even though I know the smile is fake.
“Baking is not really my thing,” Birdy says as she adjusts the apron at her neck. “But Callie just got this job, and she really wants to impress her boss.”