Rachel’s eye across the kitchen table. Before either could attempt a soothing response, a chunk of pink frosted cake slid down onto the platter like a culinary landslide.
Even Lacey, who had never decorated a cake, knew you didn’t try and ice one while it was still warm. But Anna had been too impatient. At least the frosting matched the rest of Anna’s garishly pink painted kitchen.
“Libs will love it because you made it for her. That’s what counts.” Hopefully, Libby was too young to remember the custom-made professional cakes that had graced her birthdays when Cam was still alive. Surely she was.
Rachel held up her phone, the web browser open to a local cake shop and mouthed backup? in Lacey’s direction. Lacey shrugged. She’d tried to offer to buy Libby’s cake as part of her birthday present. Then Anna announced she was going to make one herself. No one knew anymore when they were supposed to let Anna go with it or insist on rescuing her, least of all Anna herself.
Anna swung around, catching Rachel before she had time to holster her phone. Her hair, face, and grey T-shirt were streaked with frosting, and bright star-shaped sprinkles covered both her and the surrounding kitchen surfaces.
Anna sunk into the chair between them and buried her face in her hands.
Lacey leaned back and grabbed the tissues off the kitchen counter. Just in case.
For a few seconds, no one said anything, waiting to see where on the emotional continuum Rachel suggesting a Plan B cake might land.
“You okay?” Rachel asked, her tone tentative.
Anna peered through her fingers. “The unicorn one.”
“What?”
“You should get her the unicorn one.”
“Done!” Rachel’s fingers flew over her phone, getting the order in before Anna could change her mind.
Lacey stood and grabbed a spoon off the counter, sliding it through the landslide and nibbling on a small piece of the still-warm chocolate mud cake. Then a bigger piece. She blamed Victor. “Well, the good news is, it’s good. Which is more than we can say about the first one you ever made us.”
Picking up the cake, she placed it in the center of the table while Rachel stood and grabbed bowls from the cupboard, then rummaged in the freezer. She emerged victorious with a pint of Chunky Monkey. She and Anna both scooped large servings of cake and ice cream into their bowls.
“Where’s mine?”
Anna and Rachel both looked at her. “Your wath?” Rachel mumbled the question around a large mouthful.
“My bowl.”
This time it was Anna and Rachel who exchanged a meaningful glance.
Rachel swallowed. “Restructure?” The question was directed at Anna, who thought about it for a second and shook her head.
“No. She’s been through two before.” She squinted at Lacey like she was a laboratory specimen. Then a smile crossed her frosted face, and she pushed the ice cream across the table toward her. “Okay, who is he?”
Lacey’s spoon paused midair. “Who is who?”
Anna rolled her eyes. “The man.”
Lacey tried to keep her face straight. “Who said anything about a man?”
Anna smirked. “Your spoon spoke for you.”
Lacey squinted at her. “Did you perchance happen to be drinking while you were making this?” Her spoon still dangled over the ice cream. Putting it down would be too obvious, so she scooped a small amount into her mouth. Banana. Argh.
Anna squinted back. “Did you perchance happen to fall in love while I wasn’t looking?”
Lacey swallowed and choked on a fudge chunk. After a few seconds of coughing, she managed to dislodge it.
“Give it up, Lace.” Rachel dug back into her bowl. “We know you don’t eat carbs or ice cream, and you don’t even like bananas.”
“I eat carbs.” She was busted, so now all she could do was buy time while she figured out what to tell them. She’d had zero intention of telling them anything about Victor. Talking would make it a real thing, and it wasn’t. And if every time she picked up her phone she wanted to call him and every time she closed her eyes she saw him looking at her like she was more known than she’d ever been … well, that would pass.
Anna rolled her eyes. “Brown rice and quinoa don’t count.”
Rachel pointed her spoon at her. “Stop stalling.”
“Okay, fine. Just to be clear, I’m not in love with him.”
“Who?” They both spoke in unison.
Lacey buried her head in her hands, in a move not dissimilar to Anna’s a few minutes before. “Victor.” She mumbled his name, but Anna had ears like a bat.
“Peter’s brother? You’re