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But they’d eaten the cardboard crap with smiles on their faces.
What I had learned early on was that I was a messy baker, today no different. I had flour all over me, icing from the last batch caked on my face. But I was happy. The sun was bright in the sky, the eighties music, which I’d become consumed with lately, was blaring on my iPad in the kitchen, and the heat was oppressive since I’d had the oven on for four solid hours.
I did a little jig after taking out the last batch, a combination of berries with a hint of white chocolate.
After precariously placing the muffin tin on the overcrowded wire rack, I rubbed my arm across my sweaty forehead, instantly laughing from the various colors of icing covering my forearm. Yep, I was a total mess but at least I could smile.
Maybe I should wash my hands before I started another batch. I’d gotten up early that morning, pulling my hair into a ponytail and jerking on sweatpants and a tank top before consuming two cups of coffee. A shower could wait.
Tomorrow might be the perfect day when someone discovered my goodies and adored them. Then I’d become rich and famous. Right. Dream on, girl.
The hard knock on the door meant one thing. Willow had arrived just to ensure I’d texted the hot man. Maybe hot. Okay, so I still wasn’t convinced but I had enjoyed our conversation. It hadn’t really approached naughty as maybe my bestie had hoped, but I’d been able to tell the guy on the other end of the phone was intelligent.
I grabbed a kitchen towel, groaning as all I’d managed to accomplish was smearing more icing all over my hands. As I walked toward the door, I found myself almost eager to let Willow know I’d enjoyed myself the night before. So, when I threw open the door, I decided to blast her with the news.
“Yes, I texted the man as demanded and oh, boy. What a little hottie that I could see myself…”
Thankfully, I’d stopped before spouting off the word ‘fucking’ since my father stood on the other side. As usual, he had that gaze, the one that screamed disappointment.
“Dad. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Obviously, or you would have dressed for the occasion. Or so I’d like to hope.”
His disdain was worse than normal. “What do you need?”
“A moment of your time and what man did you text?”
Telling my father it was none of his business would challenge him to dig deeper. I refused to allow him to interfere with my life any longer. “It was just a prank. Willow enjoys playing them.”
“Yes, well, she has no couth.” He didn’t bother asking if he could come in. He simply did.
I stood with the door still open, trying to rein in my anger. Since moving to what my father considered to be a bad part of town, he’d visited once. And that had been forced by my mother, the plant they’d brought as a housewarming gift dying within a month.
Maybe I’d allowed that to happen on purpose.
He was glancing around my apartment as if thoroughly disgusted. I closed the door, also forced to control my breathing and my mouth. I watched as he walked to the window after tossing a nasty look toward the pass through between my kitchen and postage stamp-sized living room.
As he shoved his hands into his pockets, I knew what that meant.
He had the umpteenth proposition to make.
I folded my arms, taking my time walking toward him.
“You had everything going for you, Selena. The best education. A position that you excelled in. A bright future. Yet you threw it all away. I keep asking myself why. You are just so talented, so brilliant as well as beautiful.”
It was the same beginning almost word for word. “A little passive-aggressive, Dad?” The answer I really wanted to provide would likely horrify him.
There was something different about the expression he wore as he finally turned around to face me. While I couldn’t place it, I had a feeling this was his idea of a full court press. “You’re my daughter. I want what’s best for you.”
“Yet you refuse to support me in following my dreams.”
His features softened, which was another surprise. “I’m not going to apologize for being hard on you. I’m also not going to lie in telling you that when you quit, you nearly broke my heart. I value your opinion, your work ethic, and your skills. I know I didn’t tell you that enough.”
“Nope. You preferred chastising me in front of my peers.”
He shook his head. “I’ve apologized for that. It was a mistake in judgment.”
A mistake in judgment? I kept my mouth shut. A headache I didn’t need. The longer I remained quiet, the antsier he became. Good. Hopefully, that would pressure him into leaving sooner so I could return to a joyful day.
