Page 48 of The Complete Truth Duet
I hated both options. But I went with door number two.
Finger-combing the curls at the ends of my ponytail, I hurried back to the door, pausing to toss the gum out—ya know, just in case.
“Sorry about that,” I greeted.
His smile fell as he gave me a quick head-to-toe. “Shit. Were you asleep?”
Stepping to the side, I motioned for him to come in. “Kinda. I passed out on the couch.”
He remained in the hall, his large red toolbox at his side. “Damn it. I should have called. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“It’s okay. I needed to get up anyway.”
His smile returned. “Truth?”
I rolled my eyes, regretting that I’d ever taught him that damn game. “Fine, no. That was a lie.”
He finally took a step over the threshold. “Whatever. I’ll take it.” I watched his back as he headed to the…kitchen? He set his toolbox on the counter. And then things got even more confusing.
After flipping the thing open, he revealed two white takeout containers. “How do you feel about Thai?”
“From a restaurant? I don’t know. I’ve never had it. Out of your toolbox? I’ll pass.”
Humor danced on his face. “It’s from a restaurant, crazy. I just didn’t want anyone to see me carrying it in here. I didn’t figure you’d want word to get out about our non-dating status.”
My back shot straight. “We have a status?”
He smirked. “No. Currently we have a non-status. Though I was hoping Thai food”—he retrieved a bakery box—“and six cupcakes might help me change that.”
My mouth fell open, and I clutched my chest. “Dear God, you’re like Mary Poppins with muscles and a toolbox.”
He laughed in a short burst. “One, I like that you’ve noticed the muscles. Two, it’s Maury Poppins, actually. Mary’s a distant cousin.”
Giggling, I took the bakery box from his hand, cracked it open, and then moaned. Dear sweet, sweet baby Jesus. They were chocolate with mounds of chocolate icing and even more chocolate shaved on top. These were not your average grocery store cupcakes. These snack-sized cakes from heaven had come from Delilah’s—my absolute favorite hole-in-the-wall bakery in the world. Well, maybe just Chicago; I hadn’t really traveled anywhere else to shop comparisons.
Delilah’s was a good twenty minutes away, but one bite of that melt-in-your-mouth icing and it was well worth the trip. Every year on my birthday, I made the trek, paid thirty freaking dollars for six of those orgasm-inducing confections, and then spent the next few days treating myself for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Very few people knew that though.
As in one other person knew that. Only because I would get her six on her birthday as well.
Lifting them to my nose, I inhaled deeply and then spoke on the exhale. “Maury, what did you do?”
One side of his mouth curled up. “I may have enlisted River’s help in exchange for these.” He withdrew more cupcakes from his magical box.
“Ohhhh,” I breathed, trading packages with him.
Three of them were vanilla with vanilla frosting and colorful sprinkles: River’s absolute favorite. But the other three were all different. One was red velvet. One appeared to be something lemony. And the last, judging by the smell, was peanut butter—River’s arch nemesis of cupcakes.
“She picked peanut butter?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh, didn’t know what kind to get Savannah, so I just took a guess.”
I blinked. Then blinked again. And then, suddenly, I couldn’t stop blinking.
It started in my fingertips. Faint, like a million pin pricks. I stood frozen as it traveled up my arms and over my chest, stealing my breath.
He’d bought them cupcakes.
Thirty-dollar, roughly nine percent of his weekly salary, cupcakes. And he didn’t want to leave Savannah out, so he’d just guessed on fifteen dollars’ worth of freaking cupcakes.
Panic hit me as I felt my throat get thick. I softly gasped, trying to collect as much oxygen as I could before it closed.
And then I felt it. The stinging at my nose followed by the burning in my eyes.
Oh shit. I was going to cry.
Oh shitty shit shit shit. I was going to cry and I wasn’t alone, hidden by the walls of my room.
“No,” I croaked. Dropping the box on the counter, I was ready to sprint when his hand curled around the back of my neck, rendering me motionless.
“Cora?” he rasped, the question of what the hell was wrong with me being clear.
I shook my head repeatedly, trying and failing to fight it back.
Do not let him see you cry, I told myself. Unfortunately, my tear ducts missed the memo. A droplet slipped from the corner of my eye, and with no other choice, I face-planted against his chest. He wasted no time before folding his arms around me. One went around my shoulders, the other going around my waist, plastering me to his front.
