I’d told him I wouldn’t want him again, and I’d known it was a lie when I’d said it. I did want him again. Or rather, my traitorous body did. My brain understood the reality of our situation. My body did not.
How had I let this happen? Was an orgasm—a glorious, mind-blowing orgasm—worth it? I had to work with him on Monday. Look him in the eyes and speak to him.
I hauled a fresh bag of flour out of the cupboard and set it on the counter with a thump. Puffs of white billowed in the air and I waved my hand, coughing. There was already flour everywhere from my marathon baking session.
“Don’t be so judgmental,” I said to Erwin.
He cracked an eye open and one ear twitched.
“I know what you’re thinking. You said yes, Hazel. You told him you wanted it. And now you have to live with the consequences.” I grabbed a dirty mixing bowl out of the sink—I’d used every one I owned at least once today—and started cleaning it out. “And you’re right. I did. But rubbing my face in it isn’t helping.”
I dried the bowl with a towel and set it next to the flour just as the oven timer dinged. I’d whipped up a batch of shortbread cookies while the lemon meringue pie baked and tossed them in the already-hot oven after it had come out.
“Erwin, where did I put my oven mitts?”
My cat offered no suggestions, so I poked around the mess of mixing bowls, utensils, measuring cups, and ingredients I hadn’t put away. Finally, I found them beneath a torn sheet of parchment paper and pulled the shortbread cookies out of the oven. They’d spread more than they should.
Another fail.
Frustrated, I set the baking sheet down so the shortbread could cool. This was so unlike me. I was usually an excellent baker.
Perhaps my subconscious was acting out. My baking mistakes were an outward sign of my inner turmoil. A rather Freudian notion, but it probably had some merit.
With my hands on my hips, I contemplated the new bag of flour. What to make next? I could make muffins, although muffin batter required a fair bit of finesse. Over-mixing was a danger, and I doubted my ability to be gentle at this point. I needed something forgiving—something I couldn’t ruin.
“Hazel?” Nora’s voice came from the front of my apartment.
I’d texted her earlier to let her know I was baking and she should come over to take some of it off my hands. If I was left alone with all this, I’d be gaining a lot more than a bra size.
“In the kitchen.”
“God, why is it so hot in here? And why does it smell like—” She stopped, both speaking and walking, when she rounded the corner to my kitchen. “What happened?”
I groaned. “Well, the cupcakes are a bit dry and I think the frosting is too thick. The sugar cookies are uneven, and the turnovers are too chewy. The meringue got too brown, and—”
“Hazel,” she said, cutting me off. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing.” My voice was oddly high-pitched. “Nothing at all. I just can’t seem to get these recipes right.”
Nora’s eyes swept over the disaster that was my kitchen. I blinked in surprise, as if seeing it for the first time. The sink piled with dishes. The growing mound of imperfect baked goods. Smears of butter and shortening, a sugar spill on the floor, and a light coating of flour dust on just about everything.
“Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong?” Nora stepped over Erwin and took my hands, leading me out to my couch. “I would have come over sooner.”
“I sent you a text.”
“You said I should stop by because you made cookies. You didn’t say you were therapy-baking, nor that you’d gone through twenty pounds of flour in half a day.”
“I have more flour.” I gestured toward the kitchen as she nudged me onto the couch and sat beside me.
“That’s not my point, and you know it. Now tell me what’s going on.”
I adjusted my glasses and blurted it out. “I had sex with Corban last night.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You had sex with the man you’ve been complaining about?”
“Yes.”
“The one you call your nemesis?”
“Yes.”
“Why were you two even here? Or was it at his place?”
“Neither. It was at work. In the copy room.”
Nora blinked at me. “I’m sorry, honey, what did you just say?”
“I had sex with Corban Nash in the copy room at work,” I said miserably, my shoulders slumping.
Without a word, she got up and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard cupboards opening and the clink of glass. Erwin got up from his spot on the floor and moved a few feet over to his kitty bed.
She came back loaded down with a bottle of gin, tonic, a lime, a knife and cutting board, and two glasses filled with ice.
“I’m going to be honest,” she said as she started prepping drinks on the coffee table. “I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle this alone. Did you have to get yourself into this mess while Everly’s on her honeymoon?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know you didn’t, sweetie. I just don’t know if I should be the one to walk you through this. My first instinct is to ask about his dick size and how many orgasms you had, and I have a feeling that isn’t what you need right now. Everly would know how to begin. I’m better as backup. Or styling, but there’s nothing I can do with that.” She gestured to me.
“Hey.”
“You’re covered in flour. So, how big was his dick and how many orgasms did you have?”
I raised my eyebrows at her.
“See? We need Everly.” She handed me a gin and tonic. “Drink that, and no more baking.”
I sipped my drink while Nora got up and fished her phone out of her purse. She tapped her foot while she sent a text, then waited, her eyes on the screen.
Her ringer chimed and she quickly swiped to answer. “Everly, you are the best, most beautiful friend in the entire world. I’m so sorry to bug you, but Hazel had sex with her nemesis.”
She wandered into my kitchen and lowered her voice, although I could still hear her.
“Yes, she had sex with that Corban guy. At work. I just got here, and she’s already made enough desserts to open a bakery. I got her out of the kitchen and mixed her a drink.”
Nora paused, but I couldn’t hear what Everly was saying.
“Good idea, I will. At this point, I think I’ll just cancel my plans for tonight and we’ll stay in and get tipsy.”
Another pause.
“You’re a goddess. I love you. Go fuck that hot husband of yours on the beach and pretend I didn’t interrupt.”
I took another sip of my drink while Nora came back and sat down next to me.
“This isn’t that big of a crisis,” I said. “You didn’t need to call Everly.”
“The pile of baked goods on your counter says otherwise.” She finished another text and set her phone down. “Besides, you know I count on Everly to balance out my advice when it comes to men. She suggested I call in Sophie as backup.”
Erwin waddled over and sat at my feet, looking up at me with sleepy green eyes. I scooped him up and set him on the couch next to me.