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“Boredom? Loneliness? Temporary insanity?” She hitched one shoulder up, drawing circles over her nightgown with her fingernail. “Everyone left for college. You all lived your cosmopolitan lives. I stayed behind to take care of Mom. My universe was small and insignificant. I bussed tables every day, got back home, ate my frozen dinner in front of Netflix. Slept. Rinsed. Repeated. Tuck was there, making a good buck and easy to boss around. He took me to nice restaurants, weekend getaways, movies; he was a great distraction.” She paused. “Oh, and he really loves giving oral. Like, I’m talking thirty-minute sessions and multiple orgasms.”
“Wow. He really didn’t strike me as the giving type.”
“I know, right? I’ve met plastic utensils more charitable.” She popped her head up from her pillow, patting an empty space on her bed. “It’s probably an ego thing, but at the time I did not complain. But enough about my life. Let’s see what you brought over. It better be good.”
“Oh, it’s the best.” I inched toward her with my offerings. First, I put the foil-covered cupcake pan on her nightstand, unpeeling the edge for easy access. “Found our shoebox last night.”
“You mean the one that you stole from me?” She gave me the stink eye.
“I didn’t steal it; we had joint custody over it, remember? Giving it back was never an option because you were mad at me. Anyway, I started going through our notes. One of your birthday wishes was a dessert made out of M-lettered ingredients. I did my best.”
I had made her marshmallow cupcakes with milk, M&M’s, and Maltesers. Yeah, I’d had to cheat and use eggs, butter, and flour, but overall, I had brought my M game.
“Lookie here.” She removed the foil, bringing one of the cupcakes to her lips and taking a bite. It looked moist and soft on the inside; my heart swelled with pride. “Damnrm,” she murmured, mouth full. “I don’t know if it’s amazing or if I’m just not used to eating junk anymore.”
“It is amazing.” I flipped my hair—black-tipped, for obvious, morbid reasons. “And there’s more of them coming—including foot massages and doing your nails if you forgive me and take me back as your BFF.”
“A foot massage can get you into premature labor.” Dylan’s eyes widened in horror. “Hard no to that one.”
“Guess I’ll have to fan you with a palm leaf and tell you how pretty you are.” I stuck my finger into the frosting of one cupcake, popping it into my mouth.
“Well.” Dylan licked the frosting off her thumb sulkily. “I am very pretty.”
I perched my ass on the edge of her bed, careful not to wet it with my clothes. Dylan took another bite, craning her neck to peer at the plastic bag behind me. “What else did you bring me?”
“Siri, play ‘Material Girl.’” I slapped her hand away when she tried to snatch the bag from around my body, laughing.
“Siri, play ‘My Best Friend Screwed My Older Brother.’” She finished her cupcake in one bite. “Oops. Never mind. No one wrote a song about a betrayal so cutting and deep.”
“I’m sure there’s a country song about it,” I muttered. “It’s not like I slept with your boyfriend.”
“If you’d have slept with my boyfriend, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Why?”
Dylan snorted. “I’m not a medium, silly. I can’t speak to the dead.”
I was glad I had come here.
“Chop chop.” Dylan clapped. “What’s my next gift? You can’t squeeze any of the Hemsworths into a bag so small, so I already know it’s not what I want.”
“I sincerely hope you are not on any FBI watch list.” I sighed, producing a burned CD from the plastic bag and handing it to her. “I made you a playlist of baby shower songs.”
Dylan flipped the CD to its back, where I had slid a piece of paper with a handwritten song list. “This better not have ‘Isn’t She Lovel—’ Oh!” She jutted her lower lip out and nodded, impressed. “‘Plug In Baby’?”
“Epic intro,” I confirmed.
“‘Baby Got Back’?” Her gaze skated my way, eyebrows arched.
“Fun, right?” I beamed.
“‘There Goes My Life’?” Dylan gasped, punching my arm. Hard.
“Hey, that’s what the rumors say!” I rubbed my arm, chuckling. “Whatever happened to no kids before we hit thirty? You broke the pact.”
“No, he broke the condom. And you’re horrible.”
“You still love me.”
