Page 12 of Romancing the Clone (Sunrise Cantina #3)

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

SIMONE

A week passes, and Ruth-Ann avoids me. I don’t see her in town.

She doesn’t come by my cart to say hi, or to bring me my daily cup of night tea.

For the first time since I arrived on Risda, I feel lonely.

Pluto watches for her all day, his ears pricking, and I can practically feel his disappointment when no one brings him his kitty cookies.

They’re not the same when they come from me.

Because they come from her, they’re special.

Her absence is a continuous ache, and I endure the week like an automaton, going through the motions.

I want to fix this, but I also don’t want to trigger Ruth-Ann into a bad headspace.

I know what it’s like to try and move on from a bad past. I wouldn’t wish those memories on anyone.

It makes me ache to think I’ve harmed my friend like that. I need to fix it, somehow.

When the day prior to the cantina opening arrives and there’s still no sign of Ruth-Ann, I decide to say fuck it to being patient.

I’ve been waiting for her to make a move all this time romantically, and she’s been avoiding it.

Why would I think that she’d somehow take the initiative with this?

If I want to clear the air—and I do—I need to be the one to do it.

So I make a plan. Instead of waiting on her, I’m going to rip off the proverbial band-aid and confront her myself.

I’ll apologize, tell her I understand, and woo her with cake.

It’s my birthday, but that’s not nearly as important as the opening to the cantina itself.

I know she’s been working hard for months and so has the rest of the crew…

and I have a cake concept I’ve been dying to try out.

I can skip the bakery cart today. Everyone’s going to be heading to the new cantina to check it out anyhow.

Instead of my regular baking, I make a cake.

It had started out as an experimental cookie I made last month that had turned out too thick and cakey, but the texture turned out to be perfect for a sheet cake.

For icing, I blend honey and a very soft, buttery cheese, and the result is so delicious I’m delighted with myself for thinking of it.

Pluto puts his paws up on the counter, his nose working. He loves the smell of cheese, and so I spread some on a bone and put it in his bowl so he leaves my cake alone.

I make a second small cake and pipe a big R-A on it. The main cake will be for the crew at the cantina, but this one is just for her.

Once the cakes are ready, I shower and linger in the bathroom, fussing with my appearance.

I normally toss my hair into a loose braid, but today I want to look a bit more glamorous.

I pull it into a high ponytail atop my head, smoothing flyaways with a bit of oil on my hands.

I have a berry-colored lip tint made by someone here in Port, and I dab it on my mouth and cheeks to give them color.

I find my tightest-fitting tunic and pin it at the waist to show off my figure, and tug it down at the front to show the girls off a bit.

I look pretty sexy, if I do say so myself.

When I’m ready to head out, I pick up the enormous sheet cake from the kitchen and then pause.

It takes up both my hands, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to bring Ruth- Ann’s cake with me.

Do I drag my empty cart over (and my oversized cat) and park it outside once I’ve transported the cakes?

Or will someone mess with it? How am I going to handle having Pluto on a harness at the same time?

The moment he sees Ruth-Ann, he’s going to bolt for her.

I stare down at the smaller cake, then decide. I’ll leave it here and invite Ruth-Ann back for a private celebration.

If she doesn’t hate me, maybe it’s time to move this thing between us forward a bit.