me back.”
Not a minute after she was done listening, her phone rang again and she answered to Cordelia, saying, “I’ve patched in Olivia.”
“What did that rat say?” Olivia demanded.
Portia’s hand shook as she held her phone. “He said he wants to talk to me. He wants to know where I am.”
“He doesn’t know?” Cordelia was surprised.
“No. And I don’t want him to know. If he calls either of you, you know nothing.”
“What about his lawyer?”
“Everything is going through my lawyer.”
“Have you gotten your settlement yet?” Olivia asked.
“No. Not yet.”
“Yep, typical male crap,” Olivia added. “I swear, you should have told the world about how he treated you. Why you haven’t told anyone who would listen what an ass he is makes zero sense.”
“I’ve told you. I have no interest in being in the news, and me telling the world that the good Christian politician Robert Baleau divorced me so he could marry my ex–best friend puts me smack dab in the middle of the news as yet another pathetic wronged-politician’s wife. I’ve already told you, no thanks.”
Olivia scoffed. “Portia—”
“No. I am not going there. Listen, I’ve got to run.”
She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out.
She pressed end, then threw on one of Evie’s old sweaters, grabbed her purse, and bolted. She didn’t slow down until she came to Columbus Avenue and the same bakery where she’d bought the cake for the Kanes: Cutie’s.
Before she thought it through, she was inside buying a baker’s box full of every variety of cupcake they sold. She couldn’t have explained the impulse if she had tried. She barely managed to cover the cost from the money she had in her wallet. Then she carried them home, nearly running all the way back, before slamming into her apartment. The minute she launched herself into the kitchen, she tore into the cupcakes like an alcoholic plunging into a binge.
Maybe thirty minutes later, maybe an hour, the door opened and Ariel walked in, finding Portia at the kitchen counter, half-eaten cupcakes spilling across the scarred linoleum.
“What are you doing?” Ariel said, gaping.
“These are terrible!”
“What do you mean, terrible?”
“Awful, hideous, dry. I tried one and couldn’t believe it. So then I started testing more of them, and so far they’ve all failed!”
“You’re testing cupcakes? Are they supposed to answer directly, or are you giving them a multiple-choice exam?”
“Ha-ha,” Portia said, taking a bite of a bright pink cupcake. She swallowed with a gulp of water. “Gah, these are awful.”
“They can’t be awful.” Ariel picked up the box. “Cutie’s Bakery. These are, like, the most famous cupcakes around.”
“So I’ve heard. Have one.”
“No thanks. I had a bite of that cake you brought from them. It wasn’t even close to as good as the one you made that first night. Hint hint.”
The words hit Portia in the gut, swirling around like plump, juicy blueberries folded into the kind of thick, sweetened batter perfect for licking off a spoon. Abruptly she stood, her mind whirling, when a huge bang sounded outside.
She and Ariel ran up the stairs and out the open door.
Gabriel was already there, two steps down. He wore faded Levi’s and a navy blue T-shirt that stretched across his chest. The sun hit his hair, the brown so dark it was nearly black. He looked great, Portia thought. Really great. No surprise there. What was a surprise was that he was howling with laughter, talking to a guy who was obviously a contractor. His eyes crinkled at the sides when he grinned like that, making him look downright approachable. Who would have guessed the beast had it in him?
Portia forced herself to focus, noticing for the first time that the outer front door had been ripped out. She gasped. “You can’t do that!”
Gabriel turned. “What’s all over your forehead?”
Portia swiped her skin, coming away with frosting. “Don’t
Not a minute after she was done listening, her phone rang again and she answered to Cordelia, saying, “I’ve patched in Olivia.”
“What did that rat say?” Olivia demanded.
Portia’s hand shook as she held her phone. “He said he wants to talk to me. He wants to know where I am.”
“He doesn’t know?” Cordelia was surprised.
“No. And I don’t want him to know. If he calls either of you, you know nothing.”
“What about his lawyer?”
“Everything is going through my lawyer.”
“Have you gotten your settlement yet?” Olivia asked.
“No. Not yet.”
“Yep, typical male crap,” Olivia added. “I swear, you should have told the world about how he treated you. Why you haven’t told anyone who would listen what an ass he is makes zero sense.”
“I’ve told you. I have no interest in being in the news, and me telling the world that the good Christian politician Robert Baleau divorced me so he could marry my ex–best friend puts me smack dab in the middle of the news as yet another pathetic wronged-politician’s wife. I’ve already told you, no thanks.”
Olivia scoffed. “Portia—”
“No. I am not going there. Listen, I’ve got to run.”
She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out.
She pressed end, then threw on one of Evie’s old sweaters, grabbed her purse, and bolted. She didn’t slow down until she came to Columbus Avenue and the same bakery where she’d bought the cake for the Kanes: Cutie’s.
Before she thought it through, she was inside buying a baker’s box full of every variety of cupcake they sold. She couldn’t have explained the impulse if she had tried. She barely managed to cover the cost from the money she had in her wallet. Then she carried them home, nearly running all the way back, before slamming into her apartment. The minute she launched herself into the kitchen, she tore into the cupcakes like an alcoholic plunging into a binge.
Maybe thirty minutes later, maybe an hour, the door opened and Ariel walked in, finding Portia at the kitchen counter, half-eaten cupcakes spilling across the scarred linoleum.
“What are you doing?” Ariel said, gaping.
“These are terrible!”
“What do you mean, terrible?”
“Awful, hideous, dry. I tried one and couldn’t believe it. So then I started testing more of them, and so far they’ve all failed!”
“You’re testing cupcakes? Are they supposed to answer directly, or are you giving them a multiple-choice exam?”
“Ha-ha,” Portia said, taking a bite of a bright pink cupcake. She swallowed with a gulp of water. “Gah, these are awful.”
“They can’t be awful.” Ariel picked up the box. “Cutie’s Bakery. These are, like, the most famous cupcakes around.”
“So I’ve heard. Have one.”
“No thanks. I had a bite of that cake you brought from them. It wasn’t even close to as good as the one you made that first night. Hint hint.”
The words hit Portia in the gut, swirling around like plump, juicy blueberries folded into the kind of thick, sweetened batter perfect for licking off a spoon. Abruptly she stood, her mind whirling, when a huge bang sounded outside.
She and Ariel ran up the stairs and out the open door.
Gabriel was already there, two steps down. He wore faded Levi’s and a navy blue T-shirt that stretched across his chest. The sun hit his hair, the brown so dark it was nearly black. He looked great, Portia thought. Really great. No surprise there. What was a surprise was that he was howling with laughter, talking to a guy who was obviously a contractor. His eyes crinkled at the sides when he grinned like that, making him look downright approachable. Who would have guessed the beast had it in him?
Portia forced herself to focus, noticing for the first time that the outer front door had been ripped out. She gasped. “You can’t do that!”
Gabriel turned. “What’s all over your forehead?”
Portia swiped her skin, coming away with frosting. “Don’t
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