Page 75 of Frosted Fakes

"Not just you." Elliott tucked a strand of hair behind Julia's ear. "But that's a mystery for another day."

"I suppose it is."

They stood there in the quiet kitchen, the afternoon light turning golden through the windows. Elliott felt something shift inside her, a wanting, a needing. Then she took a breath and pulled out of Julia’s arms. "Your batter."

Julia's eyes went wide. "The batter!"

She rushed back to the mixing bowl, spatula in hand, and peered anxiously at the contents.

Elliott looked over her shoulder. The mixture was smooth and glossy, exactly the right consistency. Not a single lump in sight.

"Well?" Julia asked nervously. "Did I ruin it?"

Elliott leaned in and kissed her cheek. "It's perfect."

Julia's smile could have lit the whole kitchen.

"Really?"

"Really." Elliott wrapped her arms around Julia from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Not bad for someone who once set fire to ice."

"That was one time."

"It was memorable."

Julia laughed, leaning back into her embrace. "Shut up and help me pour this into a tin."

Elliott did. And if she kissed Julia again while they were doing it, well, that was nobody's business but theirs.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The cake was perfect.

Julia stood in the bakery kitchen, staring at her creation with something like wonder. Golden sponge, level layers, not a single crack in sight. She'd made a cake. An actual edible cake. Perhaps the apocalypse was upon them.

"It's not bad," Elliott said, peering over her shoulder.

"Not bad? It's a miracle. I should alert the Vatican."

But her mind wasn't really on the cake. It was on what had happened earlier. Her mother's cold interrogation, the dismissive way she'd asked about credentials and training. The way she'd made Elliott feel small. The memory made Julia's chest tight with anger.

They climbed the stairs to the flat in comfortable silence, Julia carrying her miracle cake. But once inside, she set the cake on the counter and turned to face Elliott.

"I'm sorry," she said. "About my mum. The way she spoke to you earlier."

Elliott leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Don't."

"She had no right to make you feel like you're not good enough. You're brilliant, Elliott. Truly. The most talented baker I've ever met, and she just…"

"It doesn't matter what anyone thinks of me." Elliott's voice was flat, controlled. That wall going up again, brick by brick. "I don't care about their opinions. Never have. I only care about Milly and Shay."

Julia's heart sank. Of course. Elliott didn't need her defense. Didn't need her at all, probably.

A pause stretched between them, heavy with something unspoken. Then, quieter: "And you, of course."

And that small, short sentence, was all Julia needed.

She crossed the kitchen and kissed Elliott. There was nothing else to do.