don’t know what to say. I was an idiot. You always knew it couldn’t work.”
“Everybody knew,” Calvin replied. “It wasn’t just me.”
“Yeah, and a bunch of them had no qualms about saying so right to my face. Just about everybody except you. Why? Because you knew I wouldn’t listen?”
“Because I hoped I was wrong. I just want you to be happy, cupcake.”
“Me too.”
“Hey, do you want to come over? I just made a big batch of perogies. We can eat them and binge-watch old episodes of Dance Moms.”
“Okay. But can we watch It’s a Wonderful Life after?”
“Again?”
“Christmas movies renew my faith in humanity.”
“They renew your fantasy about humanity. Cupcake, Bedford Falls is not the real world.”
“And The Bachelor is?”
“Fine,” he said, groaning the groan of the defeated. “Bring on George Bailey.”
Honestly, it was almost worth losing Steve just to get Calvin back. What am I saying? It was completely worth it. Calvin is my best friend.
I plopped down into the chair opposite his, broke the pistachio croissant in two, and offered him half. Calvin held his hand up flat.
“I’ve already had a brioche, a tall mocha, and three madeleines.”
“I thought you were starting your diet this week.”
“Shut up,” he said in a chirpy voice that made me smile, then reached across the table and took a piece of my croissant anyway, as I’d known he would. “Oh my,” he groaned. “That is beautiful. Guillermo has outdone himself.”
Calvin trained as a chef and worked at some of the best restaurants in the city but gave it up when he married Simon, who is something of a saint. Simon travels all over the world as a physician with Doctors Beyond Borders. He can be called off to work in some disaster zone at a moment’s notice and be gone for weeks. The long hours of restaurant work made it hard for them to spend time together when Simon was home, so Calvin turned in his chef’s whites and became a cookbook editor. He says he doesn’t miss the frenetic grind of the restaurant at all, but I’m not so sure.
I wish I liked Simon more. I mean, of course, I like him. It’s just that I don’t like him. He’s priggish and has a tendency to pontificate. Maybe he’s entitled to that. I mean, the man spends his life literally saving humanity. But I feel like he looks down on those involved in less meaningful lines of work, which, let’s face it, is pretty much everybody. Plus, he has this habit of pulling on his own nose that really skeeves me out. Shouldn’t a doctor know that’s unsanitary? Fortunately, I don’t see him very often because he’s usually off saving the world. When I do, I avoid shaking hands with him, so it’s all good. He makes Calvin happy and that’s what counts.
“So, cupcake,” Calvin said after taking the last bite, “what are you up to today? I mean, apart from going into the office to write letters to a bunch of sad, self-absorbed—”
“They are not sad and self-absorbed.” Calvin stared at me. “Okay, fine,” I admitted. “Some are. But most are just confused. Or lonely. They just need somebody to talk to. Is that so bad? Somebody has to care about the losers.”
Calvin didn’t actually call them losers but I felt like he wanted to. I feel like a lot of people do that and it always upsets me. Because even though I’ve never met most of the people who write to me, and have a tangled love/hate relationship with a lot of them, I also feel very protective of them. I can’t help it.
“Hey, I was just joking. I’m the last person on the planet who can cast aspersions on someone else’s profession. Know what I’ll be doing today? Same thing I’ve been doing for the last six weeks,” he said. “Testing recipes for the project that never ends, The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Baking.
“Celia, I swear this book will be the end of me. Look at me.” He pushed himself back from the table and spread his hands wide, displaying the full breadth of his custom-made, 3XLT oxford shirt, coral-striped with a blue monogram, perfectly pressed as always. “I’m enormous. I’m a zip code.”
“Oh, you are not.”
“Yes, I am. I’m the Hindenburg. The next cookbook I edit is going to be something healthy, and slimming. The Complete Lettuce Cookbook. Winning Ways with Kale. Something like that.”
“You hate kale.”
“Everybody hates kale,” he said. “They just won’t admit it.”
“So you’ve gained a