Page 23 of Business Casual
“Sorry.”
I hold up my hands. “No apology necessary.”
She shrugs and continues whipping whatever batter is in that big metal bowl of hers. “I just—I know how it can be.”
“What?”
She waves her hand around her head. “All of this. The love at Lovelight. We can be extra and I know it.”
I grab a hand towel and fold it into neat squares, just for something to do with my hands. “You deserve extra, Layla. Don’t tuck away your happy on my account. I’m doing just fine.”
Maybe that’s it. It’s when they feel the need to walk on eggshells that it bothers me the most. It’s like they’re all waiting for me to fall apart at my perpetually single lifestyle when the truth is…I don’t want what they have. I don’t want to be held to another person’s expectations and fall short. I don’t want to build something with someone only to have it sour with time. Casual suits me best, and while I’m certainly no stranger to wanting things I don’t deserve and cannot have, a relationship isn’t something I yearn for.
Layla arches an eyebrow. I laugh.
“I am! Why does everyone always look at me like that when I say it?”
She clicks her tongue and finally sets down her bowl on the edge of the counter, reaching for a filling bag. She makes the work here look easy when I know it’s anything but. “Because you deserve betterthan fine. You deserve—” She glances around her kitchen, gaze landing on a stack of miniature cakes by the ovens. She points at them. “You deserve the whole cake, Charlie.”
I blink at her. “Okay?”
“You deserve the whole cake and I’m worried you’re settling for your…snacks.”
Ah. Okay, there it is. I scrub my hand against my jaw and try to tamp down my smile. “I like snacks, Layla.”
“All right.”
“Once you pop, you just can’t stop.”
She makes a face at me. “This analogy got gross.”
“You started it.”
“Yeah.” She scoops some of the caramel from her bowl and carefully folds it into a piping bag. “Yeah, I’d like to be the one to finish it, thank you.”
“Would you like to talk about your fight with Beckett instead?”
Her whole face darkens in a scowl. “No, I do not want to talk about that two-faced idiot.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “All because he eloped with Evie?”
She takes another heaping spoonful of caramel and shoves it into her bag. “All because he eloped with Evie and didn’t invite us. I know he didn’t want the whole big thing, but he could have said something.” She grumbles under her breath. “I had his cake planned and everything.”
“What were you going to make?”
“A sweet zucchini olive oil cake with lemon curd and cream cheese buttercream,” she sighs. “It would have been perfect.”
Fuck, it sounds perfect. “You could still make it, you know.”
Her eyes light up. “I could! I could make it and dump it on his front porch.”
Not what I had in mind. “Or…”
“Or I could make it and dump it on his head,” she finishes. “You’re right. That’s more satisfying.”
I stare at her. For such a tiny woman, she sure has a lot of devious thoughts swimming around in that brain of hers. A bell jingles from the front of the shop and I take that as my cue.
“I’m gonna—” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder in silent explanation.
