Page 119 of Desserts for Stressed People

We haven’t spoken since her confession yesterday, though she’s called me about fifty times. She also sent hundreds of texts, and Olivia begged me to end thetorturoussilent treatment. It’s ridiculous, but it’s also the longest I’ve ever gone without talking to Emma since we first met, and with what happened with Shane and what I’m about to do...I could use a friend.

Cupping my left ear against the noise, I bring my phone to the left one. “Hello?”

“H! Oh—I’msoshoriIshouldavenevr—”

My nose scrunches as I move the phone a few inches away. “Only dogs can hear you, Em.”

“I’m—so—sorry—I—”

“I know, calm down.” I sigh, moving to the side to let a couple of gorgeous blonde giants pass by. “I understand why you did it, Em. You were frustrated and you have a history of impulsive behavior. Really, I’m surprised you didn’t just murder him.”

“I considered it,” she whines.

With a stiff smile, I observe the tip of my blue heels. “I just need some time to...I don’t know, forgive and forget.”

“Yes, I get that. I’ll give you all the time you want. But you still love me?”

“Yes, I lo—” A loud honk startles me.

“Where are you?”

“Oh...” I glance at the slew of limousines and fancy cars stopping in front of the red carpet. “I’m at the Devòn fashion show.”

“You—what? But Olivia said that Shane freaked out—”

“Yeah, and heforbademe to come.”

“And you went anyway?”

With a pout, I say, “Pretty much.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Right?”

“Of course! He can’t just cut you out of your event twenty-four hours before it finally happens. It’s unprofessional and totally unfair. He left you no choice.”

“That’s exactly what I was saying!” I shriek.

We both chuckle, and as silence settles, I shoot a look at the wardrobe-men dressed in total black at the doors. “Of course, there’s a chance they won’t let me in. Or that they will, and Shane’s murder glare will finally turn him into a Scanner.”

“A what?”

“A Scanner. From the movieScanners?” I shake my head. “Individuals who can hurt others with their psychic powers by staring at them.”

“So...nerd stuff.”

With an eye roll, I nervously study the red carpet. Should I even go? Does it even matter if Iwin? The prize isn’t Shane anyway.

“I wish I could come with you,” Emma says as she blows out a big breath.

“I know. It’ll be okay.” I square my shoulders and begin walking. Maybe there’s no point in me going, but I certainly know that staying away and giving up won’t get me any closer to Shane. “Look, I have to go, but...I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Go get your man. Love you, and...sorry, again.”

As soon as I move closer, the journalists notice I’m no one worth taking a picture of, snap a few lazy shots my way and move on.

Walking down the red carpet, I clench my fists to stop my hands from shaking. Especially when I face the guard who asks for my name. “Heaven Wilson.”