Page 83 of Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake
“I guess reflections more,” she continued, keeping her eyes on the road. “Like how the hell can I look in a window, see a partial reflection, and then make eye contact with someone next to me in that weird half reflection? It’s a see-through material, and yet I can make eye contact on its surface? Isn’t that weird?”
“Weird indeed,” Rake said with a soft laugh. “What else is on your mind?” Rake could tell window reflections weren’t the only thing consuming her thoughts.
“I’m worried about the cake,” Lizzie answered, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror for the thousandth time. “I’ll be so fucked if something happens to it.” Lizzie had spent over an hour packing and securing the cake in the trunk.
“I’ve no doubt you could fix it even if something did happen, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Lizzie chewed on her lip, shooting him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
“Why did you become a baker?” he asked.
Lizzie shrugged. “Just your run-of-the-mill get-rich-quick scheme every girl plans out.”
Rake laughed. “No, seriously.”
She shrugged again. “There’s nothing else I was really good at. I don’t have a degree, and I blew through all my money traveling. When I came home and tricked Indira into letting me crash at her place, I made enough batches of pity cookies I decided to make it a job.” She laughed, but Rake remained silent. She glanced at him.
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
“Do what?” She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Pretend like you don’t do great things. Wave off your accomplishments. Why?”
A loud burst of uncomfortable laughter ripped from her throat, making him flinch.
“I’m not… I don’t… If I can do it, literally anyone can.”
“That’s not true,” Rake argued. “You’re clever and creative and clearly have excellent business sense, seeing how much you’ve grown the bakery. So why are you so mean to yourself?”
“Mean?” Lizzie’s mouth twisted. “I’m notmeanto myself. I love myself. I love my body and my looks, and I’ve never doubted any of that stuff. I have tons of confidence.”
“Appreciating your own physical beauty isn’t the only component of being nice to yourself, Birdy. You should appreciate your mind too.” He said it gently, in a way that didn’t mean to poke but just gently lift a veil.
Irritation blazed through her.
“Why don’t you rein it in, Dr. Phil. It’s not like you actually know me.”
A painful stab of hurt rocketed through Rake’s stomach. “Sorry,” he said quietly, turning to look out the window. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
They sat in a loaded silence for a few miles, before Lizzie finally spoke. “A therapist suggested I try it.”
Rake turned his attention back to her, arching an eyebrow.
“Baking, I mean,” she continued. “When I was younger, my mom had me in and out of psychiatrists’ offices. She was always taking me to a new one. I think a big reason is that they would tell her I wasn’t actually that bad. They’d tell her that, more than anything, I was just a spirited person who happened to have ADHD.” Lizzie frowned for a second. “But to my mom, it was abnormal for a child to be so loud and hyper and obnoxious. Especially a girl. I honestly think for a long time she didn’t even believe it was possible for a girl to have ADHD. By the time I was sixteen, I’d started really leaning into the wild childrole she’d cast me in,” she continued, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“I was drinking and smoking and wearing tiny-ass skirts. I was on Adderall and it helped in school, but there are some facets of a personality that medicine just can’t change. And my mom didn’t like that.
“So she took me to this psychiatrist and all but demanded I be put on something stronger. The doctor told her I was taking the most suitable dosage she was comfortable prescribing to a minor, but she suggested I find a productive and creative hobby. She suggested baking,” Lizzie said, glancing at him to reward him with that gorgeous smile.
“In perfect Claire Blake form, my mom thought the woman was an idiot, but for some reason, the idea stuck with me. So I looked into it and signed myself up for some baking classes at the community center and fell in love with it. I fell out of it for a while, but once I came back from my globe-trotting years, I threw myself into it. Took classes and courses and turned it into my job.” Lizzie adjusted her rearview mirror as she spoke. “I like making things that make people happy, and using my hands. It’s like getting to play all day. Freeing and fun and one of the few things in this world I can lose myself in in a good way.”
“I’m glad you found your calling,” Rake said, reaching across the console to give her knee a friendly squeeze. “And I’m very proud of how hard you work. How well you’re doing at Bernadette’s. It can’t be easy to come up with all of those ideas.”
Lizzie’s head whipped over to look at him, a bizarre mask of fear covering her face.
“What’s wrong?” Rake asked, alarm rising in his chest.
Lizzie continued to stare at him, and Rake glanced quickly at the road. That seemed to break her out of her trance.