“If you ever want to quit the college, you could go into cake decorating,” she said as she looked at the cake. “That’s gorgeous.”

  “Thanks, but I think I will keep my day job,” I replied.

  Clara couldn’t toast bread without burning it. She was easily impressed. I could have put peanut butter on toast and then placed a marshmallow on top with a candle sticking out, and she’d have thought it was great.

  “Probably best. It comes with health insurance,” she agreed, then grinned at me. “So, tell me, are you going out with Gavin or not? Did you decide?”

  Ever since I had told Clara about Gavin, she’d been driving me nuts, pushing me to go on a date. It was as if it were her life mission to get me laid this summer. She thought sex fixed everything. Maybe for her, it did, but I didn’t see it that way. Sex complicated things. It made people act differently. I was perfectly content with my vibrator and memories of Dean Finlay pushing me against a wall. That was something I’d never admit though. Admitting it would mean I was an idiot. No, I was an idiot for getting off, thinking about the man. Admitting it would be sharing my idiocy with others.

  “He wants to go out tomorrow night. I think I’m going to go,” I told her instead.

  She threw her arms in the air and yelled, “Score!” as if this were a football game and she were still a cheerleader.

  I shook my head and handed her the bag of things for Mrs. Jo’s party. “Take this, and let’s get going. Damar and Jim are coming home early from the office to join us. I don’t want them to beat us there.”

  “I’m so jealous of Jim. Damar is so hot. Why, oh why does he have to bat for the other team?”

  I rolled my eyes and headed for the door with the cake. “Don’t flirt with him, please. It makes them both uncomfortable.”

  Clara shrugged. “Fine. I’ll leave him alone. He doesn’t know what he is missing though.”

  “Yes, he does. Remember, he was married to a woman for two years in college. He isn’t interested in what’s between your legs.”

  “He was just trying out the wrong vagina,” Clara said. “That’s all.”

  “Gross. Please shut up now and be normal,” I told her.

  “Normal is not fun. How many times do I have to tell you that?” she replied and jerked open my apartment door with way more energy than necessary.

  I followed her out of it, and then she closed and locked it behind us. We were at Mrs. Jo’s door when it swung open, and Mrs. Jo stood in a bright pink dress, covered in roses. She’d even curled her hair. One of the curlers was still in the back. I could see it poking out behind her neck. I doubted she knew that. I’d fix it for her before anyone else arrived.

  “Happy birthday!” I exclaimed, and she clapped her hands together as she took in the cake.

  “It’s beautiful! I’ve never had a cake so lovely!” she said happily.

  “Last year’s cake tasted good, but you’re right, Mrs. Jo; this one is beautiful. Definitely makes up for the way last year’s looked,” Clara said, walking inside, then placing a kiss on Mrs. Jo’s cheek.

  I was forever going to be teased about my attempt at making a cake in the shape of a rose. I had seen it on Pinterest and was so sure I could do it. In the end, the unanimous decision had been that it looked more like a penis and ball sack.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Jo. “Every woman needs a penis cake once in her life. God knows a real penis doesn’t taste good.” She grimaced. “Nasty things.”

  Clara threw back her head and laughed.

  “I, myself, like the taste of penis, but I’ll agree that the cake penis was a delicious one,” Damar said from the doorway.

  Mrs. Jo began to laugh and then went to hug both men. Jim was carrying a small Tiffany Blue gift bag, and I knew it had a piece of jewelry that would delight Mrs. Jo. She made them pies and cookies all year, but in return, they bought her the best birthday gifts. I wished I’d had money to do the same, but the best I could do was make the cake and get the party supplies.

  “Look at this place,” Jim said as he walked inside. “Damn, I wish the sprinkler had gone off in our apartment,” he added.

  Mrs. Jo beamed with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful? Go sit on that sofa. It is the softest thing I’ve ever sat on. I could sleep there all night and not even ache the next morning.”

  A very tiny part of me had sofa envy now that mine was likely on its last leg. And the smell was not going away. But I’d made my stance about not needing replacement furniture, and I had to stick with it.

  I reached into the party bag and pulled out the hats I’d bought, then passed them around to everyone before placing one on my head. I had bought a paper tiara for Mrs. Jo, and I went to put it on her head. I pulled the last roller from her hair and winked at her, then tucked it in my pocket to put away later.

  “What’s your new furniture look like, Brielle?” Damar asked.

  “She didn’t get any,” Clara answered for me, then rolled her eyes. “She’s stubborn as fuck.”

  “I do hate that word, Clara,” Mrs. Jo reminded her.

  Clara apologized, and then Damar turned his gaze to me.

  “You didn’t take the new furniture? But, honey, your stuff is … well …”

  “It’s old and gross,” Clara finished for him.

  “It is not gross,” I defended my furniture. Although it was a little gross. The sofa frame at least.

  “That stuff has seen better days, love,” Jim said with more gentleness than Clara.

  He was right, but I wasn’t going to agree with him. Instead, I got out the party horns and handed them out. Everyone took one while they continued to talk about the new furniture and paint color that Mrs. Jo had chosen. It was brighter and happier-looking in here than it had been before.

  There was a knock on the door, and Damar looked at me.

  “That can’t be the food. I just ordered it. Who else are we expecting?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No one.”

  Mrs. Jo moved past us and toward the door. “It’s my birthday. One never knows what will appear at the door.”

  She swung it open without checking through the peephole first. Something she was normally very vigilant about.

  Dean stood there with a vase full of the brightest pink roses I had ever seen.

  Mrs. Jo squealed like a young girl and reached for them. After that, a series of events began to quickly take place.

  Clara gripped my arm so tightly that her nails dug into my skin as she chanted, “Oh my God,” over and over.

  Damar stood in silent shock, and Jim slapped his hand over his mouth after shouting, “Holy hell!”

  I stood where I was, saying nothing. Except wincing from the pain that was being inflicted on my arm at the moment. However, I didn’t say anything to her about it. The pain was keeping me centered. Because Dean was standing there with flowers for Mrs. Jo, and they must have cost a fortune. It was sweet. It was kind. It was thoughtful. He wasn’t supposed to be any of those things. Dean Finlay was arrogant, self-absorbed, and used to getting whatever he wanted. This, this … gesture was not what I’d expected of him.

  “Come in, come in. Meet everyone. Well, except Brielle. You know her,” Mrs. Jo told him, seemingly oblivious to the starstruck people in the room. “We have plenty of cake. Brielle made a lovely one. Last year’s looked like a penis, so we are very impressed with how far her cake-decorating ability has come in one year.”

  I closed my eyes, wishing she hadn’t brought that up. When I opened them back up, Dean was looking at me with amusement in his eyes. Damn penis cake was never going away.

  “I’ve never had a penis cake,” he said to me.

  “It was meant to be a rose, but it was a Pinterest fail,” I said, feeling my cheeks grow warm.

  “I’m going to need an explanation,” Damar said finally. “Dean Finlay is in this apartment. Not only does Mrs. Jo know him, but so do you?” he asked, looking at me.

  Mrs. Jo walked toward the kitchen to set the roses in the center of her table, ignoring the questions. So, everyone’s gaze swung to me.

  “I, uh, well …” I looked at Dean.

  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to tell them he owned the building and was currently living in the penthouse. Was that a secret? He’d been very visible the day of the fire, but he’d gone back into hiding, it seemed.

  “I own the building.” He held out his hand to Damar.

  Damar shook his hand as he stared at him in awe. “Damar Helter. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Finlay,” he said.

  “Just Dean,” he replied.

  Then, he moved on to Jim, who I was worried wasn’t going to be able to speak. He seemed too nervous, but he managed to introduce himself.

  Clara could wait no longer and was up and over to Dean in seconds. Her back was to me, but I already knew she was flashing him her man magnet smile. I would also get a tongue-lashing for not telling her about his living in the penthouse sooner. Especially since it was clear I knew him already.

  I didn’t want to watch Clara lure in Dean. She’d do it easily enough. I had faith in her abilities. So, I turned and headed into the kitchen with Mrs. Jo. She was fussing with her roses and smiling brightly. When she saw me, she beamed brighter.

  “Did you give Dean a party hat?” she asked, as if that were something he would actually put on his head.

  “He’s Dean Finlay,” I said, as if that explained everything.

  Mrs. Jo shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he wants to be left out.”

  I wasn’t going to argue this with her. I just let it go.

  Making myself busy with getting the party plates and the plastic forks I had brought, I almost didn’t think about Clara in the other room, flirting with Dean. Almost.

  He was definitely her type. She liked them rich and older. Dean would be her holy grail. The thought made my stomach twist, and I didn’t want to feel anything at all when it came to him. I heard Clara laugh. It was her sexy come and get me laugh. She was my best friend, but the sound made me roll my eyes.

  Yep, I needed to go on that date with Gavin. If I could get another man in my head, that would be great.

  Mrs. Jo took a party hat from the bag and walked back to the living room with it. The idea of Dean wearing the hat made me smile, even as Clara laughed again. I didn’t think Dean was particularly funny. Why was she laughing so much?

  I turned to walk to the fridge to get out the sweet tea I knew was in there. Dean was standing in the doorway, watching me. I was surprised he was alone and that Clara wasn’t hanging on his arm. The party hat sat proudly on his head, and this time, I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. Clara’s laughter now made sense.

  “What?” he asked me with a crooked grin on his face. “Not a good look for me?”

  I managed to stifle my giggle and shook my head. “No. I think it works on you.”

  He smirked then. “Of course it does.”

  I studied him a minute, then looked at the roses. “How did you know about her love for pink roses?” I asked him.

  “I asked her.”

  I swung my gaze back to his. “You asked her?” I repeated, letting that sink in.

  I had this image of Dean Finlay in my head. One I’d had for a very long time. When Dean did things like this, it made it more difficult for me to hold on to that image.

  “Of course I did. She mentioned how happy she was to be moved in before her birthday and that you always made her a cake and threw her a party. She invited me to the party, and I said I’d come only if she told me her favorite flower.”

  Mrs. Jo had known he was coming. That sneak hadn’t said a word.

  “They’re stunning roses. I’ve never seen any that shade of pink before,” I told him.

  He shrugged. “Being me has its advantages.”

  I was sure it had all the advantages.

  “There you are,” Clara said brightly as she brushed by Dean and entered the kitchen.

  She was beaming her gorgeous pearly-white smile, and I wasn’t sure if it was me she was talking to or Dean. My guess was Dean, but she had wanted it to seem as if she had been looking to find me.

  The doorbell rang, and I had my excuse to get away from Clara’s next flirtation with Dean.

  “That is probably the Thai food,” I said and stepped around Dean to head to the door.

  Damar and Jim always paid for the Thai food, and I made the cake every year. However, I wanted to get out of the kitchen, and this was my chance.

  Damar was already at the door, paying the delivery boy for the food, while Jim headed toward me with the bags.

  Great, we’re going back to the kitchen now. I just got away from those two.

  “God, I love the way this smells. Damar never wants to order Thai. This is the one time of year I get to have pad Thai, and I relish every moment,” Jim said.

  I forced a smile and waited until he was past me, almost to the kitchen, before turning back around to go help set up the table. When I entered the room, Clara was all but pressed up against Dean, leaning into him and batting her long lashes up at him as he spoke.

  Yeah, tonight was going to be a blast.

  nine

  dean

  They were a family. It was clear by the way they spoke to each other, in their smiles, the sound of their laughter, and how they truly cared about each other’s lives. In the center of this family was their core—Brielle. She had been the one to set up the food, get everyone’s drinks, cut the cake, and serve them all.

  I was fucking fascinated with her. Every move she made. Nothing about her was like other young women I had dated. Clara was the kind of female I was done with and no longer had any desire to waste my time on. Brielle should be too. She wasn’t twenty-five. She was twenty-eight. Her birthday was in November, and Damar was already planning her party, which he and Jim were going to throw at their apartment.

  Otherwise, there was little talk about Brielle’s life. Damar spoke about the internet dating app they had invented. Clara talked about the concerts she’d been to, mentioning Slacker Demon more than once. Mrs. Jo talked about Andrew and his newest boyfriend. Everyone seemed relieved that Andrew had broken up with his last boyfriend, agreeing he’d been controlling.

  I listened, waiting to hear more about Brielle. When she finally stood up and began cleaning the table, I waited to see who would help her. Clara moved her chair closer to mine and asked me what I was doing tonight. Not once did she glance in Brielle’s way to see if she needed help. Mrs. Jo and Damar were in deep conversation about the yoga class that was now being held in the park at sunrise. Jim had stepped out of the room to take a phone call.

  I moved my chair back and stood up. I didn’t respond to Clara’s question, but I took my plate and the other empty items on the table, then walked over to the sink, where Brielle stood, filling the left side of the sink with soapy water.

  “You wash; I’ll rinse and dry,” I told her.

  Her eyes snapped up to meet mine, and I saw a touch of surprise there. Then, she narrowed them slightly. “You know how to do that?” she asked.

  I shrugged and played along. “I’m sure if I get confused, you could help me.”

  A small smile lifted the corners of her lips, and I wanted to run my finger over them. They were plump and always pink. Even after eating and drinking, they remained a pretty pink without the aid of lipstick or gloss.

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “I’m sure they would rather talk with you.”

  “But I’d rather help you,” I replied.

  A blush stained her cheeks. “Okay,” she whispered, then turned her attention back to the sink.

  I watched her as she began to wash the knife she’d cut the cake with. I liked the red polish on her nails. It was bold and sexy.

  Damar, Jim, and Mrs. Jo moved from the kitchen to the living room. Part of me wanted to be alone with Brielle again, and another part wasn’t sure I could make the right choices if I were.

  “Mrs. Jo’s furniture looks nice,” she said to me as she handed me the knife.

  I took it from her. “You, too, could have nice, new furniture,” I reminded her.

  She dropped her gaze back to the water. “Yeah,” was all she said.

  I studied her and waited, thinking she was going to say more. She washed two more cups and handed them to me in silence.

  “Have you changed your mind about the furniture?” I asked her.

  She sighed then but didn’t look up at me. “No. It’s fine.”

  “Her sofa is in awful shape. It even smells. She’s not going to tell you that though. She’s too proud, but the water damage did not do her any favors.” Clara’s voice came from behind us.

  Brielle spun around and glared at the other woman. “It’s fine, Clara,” she snapped.

  Clara rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip, then looked at me. “No, it isn’t. She bought it years ago at a secondhand store. The sprinklers going off put that thing over the edge of bad shape to just gross.”

  My gut tightened. I watched as Brielle’s cheeks burned a bright pink, and I could tell she was embarrassed. As much as I needed this information, I also wanted Clara to shut up. She was upsetting Brielle.

  “You finish the dishes,” Brielle said to her as she dried off her hands. “I need to go. Cam is supposed to call in a few minutes. I should get back to my apartment.”

  Fucking Cam. He hadn’t been mentioned all evening. But Clara didn’t argue with her. She simply took her place, and Brielle glanced up at me with a small smile before leaving the kitchen.

  “If you want me to, I can pick out a sofa that she’d like and make her accept it. I have a key to her apartment. You can move out that piece of shit she has now and move in the new one while she’s at work,” Clara offered.