There had been no sleepovers or nights out on the town. In college, everyone seemed to have had a much different childhood, so once again, I was focused on doing my work, graduating, and starting my real life. And I’d never thought about what I’d missed out on until now. I guess hanging out with a total of three people ever meant I’d missed a lot.
“Sold to the lady who doesn’t want to be responsible for crushing a five-year-old’s dreams of a Thomas cake on her big day.”
The four of them crowded around the tablet, stopping and starting the video, and moving the reorganizing the cake pans into various shapes before Leo shoved them out of the nest.
“We jump in. It’s the only way we know. Let’s get started on the batter—again.” He pointed to Mr. Clark Kent Glasses and Mr. Commitment, whose gaze still drifted to my hand every so often.
“Everest can make the chocolate icing.”
“I’ll butcher the abomination that will be these fondant flowers.” Leo stared at the multicolored lumps of fondant on the counter like he was trying to morph them into petals and stems with telekinesis.
I turned on the faucet and sorted out a good soapy needs-a-long-soaking side, and a to-be-cleaned-now side—which was more of a pile that overflowed onto the counter.
Working quickly, I washed and dried the dishes to the sound of tutorial videos overlapping one another from three different phones. Recipe books were multiplying on the counter.
Leo was hunched over looking ridiculous with tiny pieces of colorful fondant, shaping and molding them with his giant man hands.
I took a deep breath. Maybe we’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe he wasn’t a condescending and clueless asshole who kept trying to steer my boat straight over the waterfall to my untimely demise. Maybe there was a way we could work together on this project and not rip each other’s throats out. And maybe he looked kind of cute rolling out fondant leaves for a five-year-old’s birthday. Maybe…
12
Leo
“Yes! That’s it. You did it.” Jameson ran his finger across the top of the bowl of frosting and Everest beamed like he’d run his first 100m in under 14 seconds.
“Leo, how are the flowers coming?”
My flowers weren’t half bad. After the first five video tutorials, I’d gotten the hang of something that could have been mistaken for a flower. But the buttercream roses? Those were dicey.
Zara had finished washing every dish in what seemed like the entire neighborhood, and hadn’t complained one bit. Out in the living room, she sat on the floor with Teresa, helping her rework the tracks.
When she wasn’t overbearingly controlling, she wasn’t half bad.
“So, what’s up with her?” August whispered over the cake pan with a steaming, golden brown cake inside.
“I’ve told you all there is to tell you about her. We’re stuck working together on the Winthorpe events for Felix’s company.”
“What’s the deal with the ring?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. She said it’s not hers, it got stuck on her finger and she couldn’t get it off. During the presentation, the decision-maker’s face lit up when she spotted it, so we’re stuck playing fake fiancées for a while.”
“Fake.” Some of the tension in August’s body relaxed. He set down the cake pans and picked up another empty set.
“Do you think I’d get engaged and not tell you guys? That I’d show up like, ‘Hey guess what? I’m getting married?’”
August’s hand jerked and he spilled some of the vanilla batter onto the counter.
“Only an asshole would do that.” He didn’t look up, but kept pouring into the next pan.
Everest and Jameson shot me looks and my mistake became crystal clear.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant,” I sputtered, trying to recover.
“Don’t worry about it. I was, indeed, an asshole.”
“Was?” Jameson threw out, nudging his glasses up higher.
August laughed and set down the bowl. “You’re right. It’s still in here.”
“But we love you, man.” I handed him a tiny, half wilted, half misshapen fondant flower.
“Like you guys could get rid of me.”
The front door banged open, stopped by the chain. “What’s going on? Did I miss it?” There was an almost hopeful hint to his voice.
Zara looked up from her seat on the floor to me.
Hunter had his face smooshed in the open door, lips first.
Teresa jumped up and down, spotting the bit of gift wrapping paper through the gap in the door.
“Move your freaking face and I can let you in.” I shoved Hunter’s head back and opened the door.
“Hey, Teresa.” Hunter crouched down and Teresa flung herself at the present in his hands, wrestling it away and bounding back to her train set.
Hunter’s lips creased into a frown and he shook his head. “Always about the gifts?”
“When it comes to a wrapped present on her birthday, it seems so.” Jameson walked into the living room with batter splatters all over him and the lenses of his glasses.
Hunter half whispered out of the side of his mouth. “Who’s the gorgeous lady playing with Teresa and wearing an engagement ring? Did August pull an August again?”
“No, that’s Zara. The one I told you about.”
Hunter’s eyes widened. “I was expecting some sort of troll-like creature with a hunchback and oozing pustules, not a surprise engagement.”
Zara looked up at me.
I expected daggers in her eyes, instead she laughed. I’d never seen her laugh before. It suited her. Her eyes sparkled.
She picked herself up off the floor. “No surprise engagement. My neighbor wanted me to try this on. It’s a long story.” She waved her hand as though questions about that part of her story could be as easily waved away. “But we got to our meeting and Leo blurted out we’re engaged. So now I’m stuck with this ring on my finger that I have to give back, and a fake fiancé with no ring.”
“Then it’s good I showed up when I did. I can solve both your problems. First, I need my tools.” Hunter shot his finger into the air. “To the bathroom.”
Everyone hesitantly followed him with slightly concerned looks. He took Zara’s hand and led her to Jameson’s upstairs bathroom. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet until he found what he’d been looking for.
“Dental floss? You’re going to clean your teeth?” Jameson held Teresa in his arms, so she could see between our heads.
“You have no imagination.” Hunter held Zara’s hand in his. Putting the stopper down in the sink, he ran her fingers under the cold water. “You only make that mistake once. Always. Always pull the stopper.”
Zara looked to me and I shrugged. If I’d had an idea on what he planned, I’d have done it myself.
Pressing on the metal and turning the ring around, he slipped the floss under and wound it around her finger. Slowly, he wrapped the floss down her finger past her knuckle like a mummy. The tip turned a little purple.
I reached for the floss. “What the hell are you doing? Look at her finger.”