Imperfectly Delicious (Imperfect Series #6) - Mary Frame Page 0,30

I am not the person to give advice about relationships, especially considering my own checkered history. And in the past, when I’ve made comments, Fred immediately makes it clear the topic is off-limits. She’s loyal to a fault, I think.

“I can call you an Uber or something?” I offer.

“It’s fine. I’ve got it. I’ll…go home and order Pho. But maybe I shouldn’t be around the cakes, just in case. Can’t risk it if I am getting sick. It would be your luck for Guy to make good on his health department threat and have them show up while I’m sneezing into the batter.”

“Take tomorrow off, too, just in case. I want you to feel better so you can help me with the Beatles wedding this weekend.”

It was a good gig to land, based on a referral from another wedding a few months ago. It’s a huge order, five hundred guests, and they have a specialized theme which means I would need to bake and decorate over fifteen hundred mini cupcakes. The mother of the bride is an editor at Women’s Weekly magazine. If I do well, maybe it will lead to more catering jobs. Then I can have a bit of a cushion instead of living week to week.

But I’ll also need Fred’s help. I’ll have to bake everything the day before so it’s as fresh as possible. I already ordered stencils with little guitars and Beatle-shaped heads, shaggy hair and all, but making the fondant and cutting each piece by hand will be a lot of detailed work.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine by this weekend,” Fred assures me. “It’s probably nothing. Just stress. Jack has been working a lot at the museum, and so I’ve been doing as much as I can to make everything easy for him at home.”

I have to bite my lip again, but I nod at Fred and then she leaves and I’m alone. It’s not my place to judge, when all I have is my truck and the cakes around me.

It’s enough, I tell myself, but I don’t really believe it.

Chapter Nine

Food is symbolic of love when words are inadequate. –Alan D. Wolfelt

Scarlett

“You better be safe and invest in some condoms or something,” I say to Reese on the phone at the exact moment Brent opens the door to the apartment he shares with Bethany.

He bursts out laughing and I could just die of mortification.

I hadn’t even knocked yet, but I’m sure the doorman called up to let them know of my arrival.

He steps back to let me in.

My face is on fire, and Brent is still laughing.

“Reese? I just got to Bethany’s but we’ll talk more later. I love you, ok bye.” I hang up quickly and Brent leans in for a side hug.

“Scarlett, always a pleasure.”

“Hey Brent, sorry about that, duty calls.”

“That’s some important duty. Bethany is in the living room.” He gestures down the hall and I walk along the tiled entry and into the open spaciousness that is living in rich-person-land Manhattan. There’s original artwork on the walls—one of them is a vibrant abstract my mother painted and costs more than six months of my rent—and the living room is all sleek hardwood floors and white, upscale furniture along with a giant flat screen.

Bethany’s apartment is the nicest place I’ve ever been. And it’s in Greenwich Village. I mean, Julia Roberts lives in Greenwich Village.

Bethany is on the couch, cross legged with her laptop balanced on her thighs. “You should tell Reese to put the condoms in strategic locations. That way, if the urge strikes, you’re prepared no matter where you are.” She winks at Brent who’s still chuckling behind me.

I can’t help but scan the living room. “Are you saying you have condoms hidden all over this place?”

“I’m not saying I don’t,” Bethany says. “It just makes it easier and less awkward when the time is right, you know? But also, potentially more awkward if your future father-in-law stops by and sits on the couch—which he normally never does—and then finds one under his butt.”

Brent groans, covering his face with his hands. “Tell me that didn’t happen.”

“Oh, it happened. And he got pissed because he wants grandbabies. Can you believe that? I told him he wants more people to torture and he laughed and said he wants to spoil them with obnoxious presents so we’re the ones who are tortured.”

At the mention of babies, Brent’s eyes get really soft and he’s staring at Bethany like he wants the impregnating