Page 71 of Cakes for the Grump

His question strikes closely.

The truth involves my father and his addiction, and the duties of an only child. It’s thorny. Complicated. Real.

“I love Barcelona,” I say slowly, “for the men in short swim trunks. And the weather.”

“Seriously—”

“You want to be my friend, do you not?”

Luke’s hand falters and he sprays disinfectant into the air. “And?”

“That doesn’t mean digging into me. In fact, I’m much more comfortable if you didn’t inquire about such matters.” There’s a silence that makes me bite my lip before I continue on. “That being said, I need to thank you. Genuinely. This competition is very important to me, and I might have continued spiraling without you stepping in.”

“Unnecessary. You did the real cooking.”

“Yes, but talking about it out loud helped. A lot more than I thought it would. So, thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, you did more than you needed to.”

Maybe it’s the glowing aftermath of finally finishing an egg dish, but I feel like Luke needs to hear this.

“I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank you properly not only for today but for allowing me the use of this kitchen and for—well—giving me a place to stay. If it wasn’t for your hospitality, I wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

I don’t ask him how long I can stay. I’m not ready for another tidal wave of stress, after having survived this one.

Luke puts his hands back into his pockets. “Rita, I prefer it when you think I’m an elitist pig. Go back to that.”

“Actually, speaking of ego?—”

“Not sure I can take more, but go on.”

“About Janice Dorian, I know it is easy and will be very satisfying to ruin her, but you can’t. Ruin her. The tenants she supervises are vulnerable for a variety of reasons, I don’t want anything to fall back on them.”

“My lawyers?—”

“No.” I grip onto a kitchen towel. “What if the owners decide fighting the case is not worth it, and decide to sell the property to condo developers? I can’t have Mr. Albo, Mrs. Milla, and Ms. Baghdadi out of a home, too. They need rent control. They’re retired. And they told me Janice has cooled down so we should wait.”

“I’m not used to letting anyone get away when they cross the line, Rita. She crossed it with you.”

“Yes, but I can’t be the only one making decisions about this. I have to talk to Mr. Albo, Mrs. Milla, and Ms. Baghdadi and see what they are comfortable with. It’s not all about me.”

He ponders my expression for a few slow beats, before reluctantly nodding. “Alright. We can talk about this later. For now my lawyers won’t do anything without explicit permission, but to get ahead of it—I recommend writing down a personal testimony about Janice so we have it in writing. We can send at least that to the lawyers, but they won’t do anything with it unless you give the go-ahead.”

My automatic instinct is to deny him, but I discover I don’t spring to it.His word… Do I actually trust it? Maybe? At least enough not to fight about this for now.

“Okay, sure. Thank you.”

Luke’s jaw flexes at my gratitude. “Go back to sleep,” he says, making a shooing motion. “I’ll finish up in here.”

“No, I can help?—”

“Sickly peasant, I don’t want you to yak on my floors. Don’t make that face. Leave now and go deal with your competition.”

“Fine.”

Might as well exit before another belt vision plagues me.