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Sabrina shrieks and does a little dance, and I can't help my grin. "Oh my god, finaaaallllyyyyyy!" She squeals, going back to the small island and grabbing one for herself. "Months of trying to get this one right."
"Did you update your measurements?" he asks, getting up to grab another from the kitchen island.
"Of course!"
Not understanding why I want to be part of the celebration, I pick up my phone and call her. She looks down at the screen when she sees my name pop up and lets it ring while she chews.
I silence the screen I'm watching her from so she doesn’t hear an echo.
Answer the fucking phone, princess.
"Hello?" She says around another bite of cupcake.
"What are you doing?" It comes out rougher than I intended.
She swallows. "I just perfected a recipe I've been working on for months. Strawberry-Lemon."
My mouth waters. I have a weakness – a sweet tooth – and that sounds delicious. I doubt I can ask her to save me one. But there is no triumph without try. "Congratulations," I say sincerely, with a smile on my face, as I watch a genuine smile spread across hers. But then it drops as suddenly as it began, and I can see the walls going back up with a shake of her head.
"Thank you. Can I ask why you called? Is everything alright?"
I clear my throat. "Yes... I needed to... tell you..." shit. I should've thought this through. I watch as she places the phone down on the counter and puts me on speaker while she goes to the fridge, grabs a carton of milk, then pours herself a glass. "Needed to ask what time we'll be leaving Friday evening?"
"Same time as last time."
"We left an hour late last time."
She pauses. "That's... my fault. I'll be sure to not lollygag."
"Hmm."
"Well, if that was the only purpose of your call, I assure you, while I'm ever so pleased to hear your grunts, this could've been handled via text or email. Have a good evening, Mr. Giordano." She hangs up on me and goes back to devouring the cupcake, souring my mood.
I call her back immediately. Her eyes roll. "Yes?"
"Save me a cupcake, I'd like to try this… perfected dessert."
She stays quiet for a moment, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Are you at your penthouse?"
"I am." I'm not. I'm in my office at Eden, but I can be at my penthouse before she gets there.
"I'll have Parker drive me. I can be there in thirty."
It is the first time I have ever raced home.
I look around my place. It's a large, open floor plan, spacious with floor to ceiling windows that overlook the skyline, seeing as the building is just outside of Manhattan. Sleek, minimal black furniture is placed intricately and out of the way. It's not uninviting, it's just notcozy. The kitchen is full of new, high-tech appliances, including my espresso machine – the only appliance I actually use other than the microwavethat heats up my prepped meals. High protein, low carb. Unless I need to carb load. The counter tops are bare, and I can't help but compare them to her countertops that are so...busy.
Will she bake here, or will she keep going to her house so she doesn't mess it up?
I don't know why, but the thought of her not baking here, dirtying up the counters, singing, puts a dark cloud over my head.
I've been watching her too closely.
I tell myself it's to see if Parker tries anything, having had Niko add more cameras in her home, but it's more of the same. If she cries out at night, Parker soothes her without touching her, stands around for a while, and then goes back to his room once she’s okay. Every now and then, his hands turn into fists, like he’s trying to stop himself from climbing into bed with her.
I shoot a quick text to Jonathan to purchase the best baking instruments on the market and have them delivered to my home.
The buzzer to my door rings, and I go to open the door and almost laugh. Sabrina's hair is up in a messy knot above her head, and she's in a white puffer coat that makes her look like a giant marshmallow. She holds out a glass container to me, holding four cupcakes.