Page 50 of Sweet Redemption

“Liar,” she challenges.

“Aurora,” I warn her. “I’m not you. If I eat sugar before protein, I’ll feel like a slug all day.”

“Serena . . . just eat the fucking cupcake.” Was that a growl?

“Umm . . .” Saylor pulls the mint-green napkin the cupcake sits on away from Aurora. “What our cousin is trying to say is you’re kind of wasting away. And before you say it, I’m well aware it’s your first full season without soccer, but I refuse to sit by and watch you lose all the muscle you spent a decade building.”

“And you guys think a cupcake is the answer?” Indignation wars with regret because they’re not wrong. I haven’t been for a run in—shit, I’m not sure how long. I haven’t been eating right either. Hell, sometimes I forget to eat altogether.

I’d ask if it was January yet because I’m ready for this year to be over, but Octavia would tell me a year is just months on a calendar and not to get caught up in the idea that the changing of the year needs to coordinate with the changing of habits.

I fucking hate when she’s right, even if it’s why I go to her.

“Is this like an intervention?” I ask, half kidding and half not as I look around Sweet Temptations to make sure no other family members unexpectedly appear. But when I look back, Aurora and Saylor are quiet. “Seriously?”

“Not an intervention.” Saylor lifts her tea, concern clear in every hesitant movement. “But we are worried about you.”

“Something is going on with you. Something more than you retiring from soccer,” Aurora adds as she finishes her cupcake and stares at mine lovingly.

“Guys, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I’m okay.” I’m not sure I buy that bullshit, but hopefully they do.

“How’s Uncle Max?” Saylor asks, and my head whips her way.

“He’s fine,” I snap a little too harshly as my chest squeezes.

“Good.” She nods, her voice soft. “It’s not like he wants to talk about it, and we’re all worried about him.”

“He’s in remission. There’s no need to be worried.” That same pang of guilt I feel every time I think about leaving him and the Revolution hits hard and fast. “He gets tired more quickly, but the doctors said that’s to be expected.”

And he is. I was there when he rang the bell six months ago after his final chemo treatment. Something Mom forced him to do.

Like I said . . . rough year.

“Good,” Aurora sits back in the deep-purple, oversized chair, that’s one of the few pieces of furniture remaining after the bakery’s renovation, and pulls something from her purse. “Then you have no reason to stay with the Revolution.”

“I already quit,” I push back, unsure where she’s going with this.

But as Aurora’s eyes narrow in warning, I swallow. “You gave your notice, but you’re still there.”

“Same thing,” I protest, but Saylor leans forward, softening her smile.

“It’s not, S.”

My stomach growls as the scent of fresh pumpkin-spice coffee makes my mouth water. “I started interviewing this week. I haven’t found anyone right for the position yet. But I’m still looking.”

“Why?” Aurora snaps, and my head throbs.

“Because that’s typically what happens when you want to hire a new person.”

“Uh-uh,” Saylor pushes back. “Don’t play dumb. Why are you doing Human Resources’ job?” When I have no answer, she lifts her cup again and eyes me over it. “Don’t let yourself get stuck, Serena. You deserve to live your life, not his.”

“You realize how dramatic you sound?” I ask, ripping the paper off the cupcake sitting in front of me and stuffing half of it into my mouth as my stomach growls. “I’m living my life.”

Pretty sure crumbs just fell from my mouth onto my boobs.

So not ladylike.

Oh well. Being ladylike is overrated.