Page 27 of Yours to Keep

Instantly, I liked her even more than I already had, my initial feelings about her settling into something firmer. “Well, yeah. Him. I mean, objectively? He’d be really hot if he wasn’t such a dick. He could’ve had at least half the women in this building wrapped around his little finger by now if he’d just smile sometimes.”

Laughter burst out of her. “Wow.”

I shrugged, my cheeks flushing a little. “I’m just saying, he’s tall, he has a never-ending array of expensive suits, and that whole ruthless businessman thing works for some people. Just not when you’re yelling at nurses about cake.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “You’re definitely not wrong.”

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to work for him for so long,” I said, genuinely admiring her for it. “I would’ve snapped by now and become a spree killer or something.”

“Oh, I snap,” she said lightly. “I just do it internally.”

“That’s a skill I never seemed to have developed. It looks like I just go straight to baked-goods-based violence.”

She grinned. “Yeah, I heard about the cannoli.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You did?”

“Well, I was right outside his office when it happened and the door was open,” she said with a slight smirk appearing right at the very corners of her lips. “Nothing could’ve stayed secret.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Does that mean you’ve been thinking of me as the Pastry Assailant?”

She chuckled. “There are worse legacies.”

“True.”

We started walking down the hall together, our footsteps falling into sync. A nurse passed us and gave Liana a quick smile, then glanced at me and smirked. I just wasn’t quite sure why.

Liana stopped walking when she reached the hallway that led to the Great Office of Power and turned to me. “Hey, are you free this evening?”

I frowned, mentally running through my schedule and coming up empty. “Uh, I think so?”

“Cool,” she said. “Quick follow-up. How do you feel about non-birthday cakes?”

I grinned, a little intrigued by this line of questioning. “I’m a big fan. Why?”

“Would you be a sweetheart and come help me and my fiancé choose a cake?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

My eyebrows shot up. “You want me to come help you choose your wedding cake?”

“I’ve never been so stressed about cake in my life, so yes. I would really appreciate it if you could come help us taste since apparently, it will bring us a lot of joy if chosen correctly and a lot of misery if not.”

I laughed. “I have the night off and I really do like cake, so I guess that makes me uniquely qualified.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed. “Thank God. Meet me at the Lucky Bakes bakery at seven?”

“Seven it is,” I said, smiling. “I’ll be sure to bring my extremely professional baking opinions.”

She grinned. “That’s all I’m asking.”

We parted ways after that, and I walked to my car later on feeling lighter than I had in days. My workplace was still a battlefield, my boss was still a tyrant, and I was one security camera away from unemployment, but still.

Cake with a new friend wasn’t a bad way to spend a night.

I drove home with the windows down, letting the evening air clear the hospital and Sullivan Crowne out of my head. Once I got to my apartment, I kicked off my shoes and checked on my houseplant, which had lived to fight another day.

Satisfied it wasn’t going to stage a rebellion and die on me, I headed for the bathroom and grabbed a quick shower. After, I changed into jeans and a comfortable, soft sweater. Then I swiped some mascara onto my lashes and called it a day.

Happily, this wasn’t a date and I didn’t have to try to impress anyone, so I wasn’t stressed and I didn’t have to make a fuss. This is great. This is why I like new friends more than new boys.