Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,56

“No, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s compromise I guess, and in the end, the money goes into my happy-with-life pot.”

“Happy with life? Are you not happy?” He was troubled by my statement but without delving into my back story, how did I explain my rationale?

“Of course,” I lied. “My happy-with-life pot is a banked figure that I’d promised myself I’d reach so that I can do anything I want, take on any challenge, and never have to worry about money again.”

“Oh right. So you have a date when you stop?”

What would he say if I told him that I was so close to the number that I could smell it? How would he react if I told him how much it really was? “A loose one,” I hedged.

“Good, good,” he said the words, although I could tell he was confused, only it wasn’t me that changed the subject. “So what did you do that got you in trouble with the show?”

“Oh that. I stupidly sent Erin a collection of selfies for her to post, and she chose the one that included the corner of Ivan’s challenge plus his hand. I don’t know why I didn’t see it, but I should’ve. She says she didn’t realize, but I have this feeling that she did. So from now on I’m posting my own selfies because she can moan about brand positioning and all that shit, but I’m selling Brand Justin, and it’s my face.”

He nodded as I spoke, but I knew I was losing my cool, and I didn’t want to go back to feeling pissed off again. I’d felt like a kid getting told off for something I hadn’t even done. But I had to take some of the blame for taking the damn photo in the first place.

His cell chimed, and he snarled at whatever came in then drastically hit buttons to send a message before turning the cell upside down. “My ex will not get the hint.”

Then his cell blared out a Britney Spears song, and he grimaced, but it wasn’t a real grimace, not cold like the reaction to the text but fonder. “Okay to take this?”

“Of course.”

He answered. “What now, asshole?” he asked whoever was phoning, although he was clearly teasing, so I guess it wasn’t the ex. “No, Joe. I don’t know where that is, and no you’re not going anywhere near the kitchen… no… for fu—okay, Joe! Jeez, okay, but I swear if I come back and there is one thing… okay… yeah, yeah, love you too, whatever, have fun.” He ended the call. “My older brother, Joe, he’s the sculptor—”

“Yeah, I remember, the one who used to make awesome snowmen.”

“Yep, well since he broke up with his last girlfriend, he’s bunking at my apartment, and he’s not allowed in the kitchen because I swear he’d burn water if I let him anywhere near a saucepan. Creating busts of naked men on my dining table and spreading plaster everywhere, yes. Cooking in my state of the art, pristine kitchen, no.”

I smiled along with his fake irritation at the brother he clearly loved, and all I could think was that despite the text from the ex, he had this wonderful family that balanced the anger and made him smile.

Lucky man.

Chapter Sixteen

You can always save the day with sprinkles

Brody

I nudged Justin’s foot again. “Do you keep in touch with any of your foster families? I don’t ever see you post about them, but then I guess you wouldn’t want to do that if you’re branding a certain way. I mean, I don’t know how it works.” I was just making conversation but wished I could pull the question back when he blanched and stared at his toes. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I tend to ramble on about—”

“My foster families were a means to an end. We mutually disliked each other every time.”

Shit. I’d just taken a can of worms and yanked at that lid, hadn’t I?

Should I say I was sorry? Was that what a normal person would do with the guy they’d just shared orgasms with on the plush carpet of his suite? I was lucky. My parents were awesome, even if I did owe my dad a long-overdue conversation about how I was sorry. Not that I hadn’t apologized before, but one day I wanted everything to be back to normal with him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said as if he’d read my mind. “It is what it