All’s Fair In Love and Cupcakes

by Betsy St. Amant

Ugh. Lucas turned his eyes back to the field as he nodded, then adjusted the brim of his cap to block the late-day sun. “Can’t imagine, man. You do good work, though.”

  “Those guys don’t need me so much as they just need someone willing to listen. Talk them through the experiences so they can begin to deal with them.” Darren shoved his hands in his pockets and stood beside Lucas. “It’s just being a friend, really. Praying with them.”

  “Then you’re clearly my chaplain too.” Lucas snorted.

  Darren smiled. “Call it what you want, man. You behaving?”

  “If behaving means totally ruining things between me and Kat, then yeah, sure. I’ve been an angel.” He blew his whistle. “Jackson, you fumble that ball again, you’re doing ten laps.”

  Darren crossed his arms, his short sleeves pulling tight against his biceps. Lucas tried not to make comparisons. They really should start working out together again, though. The dude was downright inspiring. “Ruining things how?”

  “You know those texts you kept sending me? About stirring up love?” Lucas waited for Darren’s nod. “Well, let’s just say I didn’t just stir, I downright pureed.”

  His friend’s eyes widened. “You didn’t sleep—”

  “No!” Lucas cut him off before he could finish. “Nothing like that. Not that far.” But that night could have easily gone that direction, and then where would they be? He didn’t even want to think about it.

  He just wanted to put a ring on it.

  Speaking of . . . “I got my land.” He knew Darren would see right through that abrupt change of subject, but thankfully, his friend played dumb.

  “What’d Kat say?”

  “Haven’t told her.”

  “Dude.”

  “I know. It just . . . hasn’t been the right timing.” He had started to tell her that night on the beach, when they’d walked after dinner, but Kat hadn’t wanted to talk. Of course that had just turned into her meltdown in the sand that left them both in near tears and then led to Those Kisses . . .

  Great. He’d just come full circle.

  “You have to tell her. You think it’s going to help smooth things between ya’ll if she finds out because you ask her to help you pack?” Darren shook his head. “There isn’t any getting around it.”

  “I will.” Eventually.

  “Today.”

  Not happening. Kat had enough on her mind coming home from the trip yesterday. He wasn’t about to tell her he got his dream-come-true while hers had disintegrated—and unfairly, at that.

  “Tell me what you think about this.” He quickly briefed Darren on the final events of the show. “And by the way, that’s all confidential, man. We signed agreements that we wouldn’t reveal the results before the show airs in a couple of weeks.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot.” Darren pulled in his lower lip, frowning. “You sure it went down like that?”

  “Positive.”

  They both stared out at the field as Coach Kent put the boys through their paces. Lucas knew not to push Darren for an answer. When he had a thought worth sharing, he would. It was one of his favorite things about his friend. Pushy to a fault, but when Darren was, it was legit—and Lucas should listen.

  Sort of like how he should have listened to him about Kat in the first place.

  He should confess the rest. “The worst part is, I was relieved when she lost.”

  “Of course you were. You don’t want her leaving for a year with that scumbag chef in New York.” Darren popped another bubble. “That’s normal.”

  “Yes. Exactly.” He exhaled in relief. At least his friend understood him, wasn’t showing judgment. Maybe his complicated feelings weren’t so awful and traitorous, after all. He relaxed slightly, feeling a bit of the burden lift. Not lift completely. Not even halfway. But a little.

  He wasn’t a complete jerk. He was normal.

  Whatever that meant.

  “It’s not too late, you know.”

  Darren elbowed him in the side, and Lucas ducked away, holding his ribs. He always did that, and it always caught him off guard. “For the show results? Afraid it is.”

  “For you and Kat.”

  He shouldn’t even ask, because he wasn’t going to like this. Or was he? But he had to know. “What do you mean?”

  Coach Kent blew the whistle for the players’ water break, and the team piled off the field where they started pulling off their helmets and guzzling from bottles.

  Darren turned to face Lucas, lowering his voice though the younger guys’ roughhousing and jostling around made eavesdropping impossible. “You love her, right?”

  With all his heart. “Can’t help it.”

  “Then prove it.”

  He blanched. “Prove it?” Hadn’t he already? By signing Kat up for the show in the first place, by going to LA with her, by encouraging her and taking her to see the sights, and by kissing her senseless not just once but several times?

  “You want her to give up her dreams for you, man. Why haven’t you considered giving up yours for her?”

  He had, actually, but then seeing his team on the set . . . it had changed things. But now—it didn’t matter anyway. “It’s irrelevant at this point. She didn’t win. She’s staying in Bayou Bend.”

  Darren leveled him with a look. “What if you made a way for her to leave?”

  “Made a way—” He sounded like a parrot at this point, repeating everything Darren said. But he was clearly missing a step. “What are you driving at? You think I should contact the TV studio or something? Fight for her?”

  “That’s the obvious answer. But not the one I’m talking about.”

  Did anyone know what Darren was talking about at this point? He took off his ball cap, smoothed back his hair, and replanted the hat. “Dude. It’s been a long week. Help me out here.”

  The department-issued walkie-talkie on Darren’s hip squawked. He reached down to adjust the volume before meeting Lucas’s gaze. “You haven’t signed on that land yet, have you?”

  “No. I’m supposed to meet for closing in two days.”

  Darren didn’t speak, just raised his eyebrows and waited.

  What—oh. Lucas closed his eyes briefly, brought up his hands to cup his neck.

  Oh.

  Yeah. That would be proving it.

  “What did you think, Mom? That I was going to come back with a tattoo on my bicep and a ring in my nose?” Kat rolled her eyes at her mother, perched primly on the edge of one of the chairs in Sweetie Pies as if the back of the chair might soil her white dress shirt. If her mom made one more comment about how surprised she was to have Kat back in one piece . . .

  “I’m just saying, is all.” Claire Varland crossed her legs and rested her purse on her knees. She looked even more uptight than usual—maybe because Aunt Maggie had been coughing nonstop since they arrived at Sweetie Pies an hour ago. Or maybe because it was driving them all crazy that Kat refused to tell what the results of the show were. “Your father was worried. Well, concerned. Pastors don’t worry.”

  Of course not. This time Kat didn’t have to roll her eyes. Stella did it for her, propped across the table opposite their mother while examining her nail polish. “Mom, he was plumb worried, and everyone knows it. Don’t even try.”

  Their mom bristled while Kat sighed. Would overprotective ever feel good? Maybe when it was done out of love and not obligation—or from sincere care instead of believing she would just screw everything up on her own.

  Right now, it was just another burden to carry.

  Aunt Maggie coughed again from behind the Sweetie Pies counter, hopefully not over the cupcakes. “Well, I still can’t understand why you just don’t tell us you didn’t win. You aren’t nearly excited enough to be sitting on that kind of secret.”

  “You never know. Maybe my lack of excitement is a trick to make you assume exactly that.” It was a little fun to mess with them. More fun if it would have been true.

  Though it sort of was true, if Lucas w
as indeed correct. And she knew he was.

  But she couldn’t explain all that right now. “We really do need to know,” her mom persisted.

  “Why?” Kat shoved away from the table, unable to take any more speculation and doubt. Not after what had actually transpired. “So you can prepare to either brag to your friends or make excuses as to why your daughter failed?”

  “Kat!” Aunt Maggie scolded, hurrying from around the counter to join them. “That’s uncalled for.”

  Stella hid a smile behind her hand. “Yet accurate.”

  Their mom cut her a look that could have cracked a time capsule a decade early. “Stella Varland. I’m surprised at you.”

  “Must be a day for surprises, then.” She stood slowly, then turned and stretched. “I want a cupcake.”

  Kat didn’t. At all. Maybe not ever again. In fact, the entire dessert was about to turn into a four-letter word. But she didn’t have anything else. She would bake them again, and eat them again, because that’s what she did even though her own family couldn’t fully support her. Why had Aunt Maggie never gotten any flack for baking cupcakes? Was it because she owned a shop and didn’t “just bake”?

  She left her crazy family and the growing pile of frustrations behind her and went to stand at the front window, choosing to ignore nature’s display of autumn leaves and the decorative scarecrows across the street. Instead she stared at the deserted sidewalks.

  Everything was the same.

  Well, everything was exactly the same—except for her.

  She’d figured she’d come back to a sort of Alice in Wonderland reality, where nothing made sense or fit anymore.

  But it was just her. She didn’t make sense or fit anymore.

  Hadn’t ever really in the first place.

  And now she’d been robbed of her one chance of escape.

  Kat looked down, and the black-and-white tiles at her feet started to smear together as she stared, eyes blurring. And Lucas . . . she just wanted to cry on his shoulder about the whole thing—and hated that she needed to. At this point she was so unraveled about so many things that she wasn’t even sure what the root issue was anymore.

  But her heart knew. And it stuttered out a single name in every two beats.

  Luc-as. Luc-as.

  Had Chase messed her up that badly? Was she that damaged with trust issues now? She didn’t feel attached to him anymore, but everything that had gone on with Lucas the past few days pointed to her potentially not being over Chase emotionally. Just look at her overreaction to Lucas’s innocent interaction with her sister. Maybe she didn’t have feelings for Chase, but she definitely had collateral damage from their relationship. Had she healed at all?

  Would she ever be healed completely?

  Ever be worth doing something worthwhile?

  Kat drew a ragged breath. At least she had Sweetie Pies, if nothing else. She knew that wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate cupcakes. She could count on those two things like the rising sun.

  She just would rather count on pumpkin cupcakes with lemon icing and caramel drizzles.

  Or, a dark chocolate cupcake with cherry ganache filling—

  A shaky—and thinner than usual—arm wrapped around her shoulders. “We have a reason for asking about the show, dear.” Aunt Maggie patted Kat’s back. “Quit assuming the worst.”

  “I’m not assuming the worst . . .” Well, probably a little. But she was done crying and tired of the pity parties. “I’ll be okay. It’s always hard coming home from vacation, I guess. It’s just—it’s been a week.” Though it wasn’t a real vacation, was it?

  Aunt Maggie turned back toward Claire’s table as Stella dug a cupcake from the display behind the counter. “Stella, I made extra strawberry cupcakes today. Help yourself.”

  “How did you have time to make extra?” Stella pulled one from the display and peeled off the paper before taking a bite. Icing dotted her chin, and Kat decided not to tell her. It was the little things. “You had that doctor’s appointment.”

  “Another one? Aunt Maggie . . .” Kat forgot her own issues for a moment and stared hard at her aunt. How selfish had she been, lost in her own problems even after Stella had mentioned in the email that Aunt Maggie’s health was getting worse? “What’s going on? What have I missed this week?”

  “Only the inevitable.” Her aunt let out a sigh and took the chair across from Kat’s mom. “I guess it’s time you knew.”

  “Now? You’re going to tell them now?” Her mom stood abruptly, towering over Aunt Maggie. “I really don’t think—”

  “You think all the time, dear. Overthink, usually. So that’s simply not true.” Stella nearly choked on her cupcake, and even Kat hid a smile. It was a rare treat for someone to stand up to Claire Varland and live to tell about it—not even their father was that daring. Maybe Aunt Maggie was more used to dealing with her own younger sister than Kat had thought. If only Kat could learn from her, maybe she would do a better job with Stella.

  Then she felt the smile slowly fade from her face. Or maybe Maggie was just being brave now because she knew something she and Stella didn’t.

  “Sit down, girls.”

  There was no disobeying the command in their aunt’s tone. Stella slid into the chair beside their mom, and Kat pulled another chair up beside their aunt.

  “What’s going on?”

  Aunt Maggie folded her hands on the table and lifted her chin. “I know this isn’t the best timing, but cancer doesn’t really give generous time frames.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’re not dying.” Claire slung her purse strap over her shoulder and huffed. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “Fine. I’ll work on that while you work on not allowing your fear to come across as anger.” The two women engaged in a silent brief stare down before Claire sat back in her chair. “You’re right, Mags. I’m sorry.”

  Kat nearly fell off her chair onto the floor. Maybe everything had changed while she was gone. Maybe it hadn’t been just her. An apology from her mom? To someone else? Without even being prompted?

  She leaned back in her chair to look out the window, halfway expecting to see a winged pig.

  “I’m about to start chemotherapy.”

  “No! Aunt Mags . . . really?” Stella gasped and reached out for her aunt’s arm. “I don’t believe you.”

  Kat swallowed hard as the pieces fell into place. The missed hours of work, the appointments, the lingering illnesses.

  “It’s true. And it’s not stage four or anything completely dire, but it’s closer than I’d prefer. My doctor also says it’s past time to retire. I can’t manage this place and be on treatments. Plus my immune system will be down for a time, and well—like I said, it’s just inevitable.” Aunt Maggie rubbed Stella’s hand before reaching out to take Kat’s.

  “The biggest change will be around here, obviously.” She briefly closed her eyes before meeting Kat’s gaze. “Kat, I’m going to have to sell Sweetie Pies.”

  twenty-seven

  The whole town turned out for the football game—which wasn’t saying much, except for what Bayou Bend lacked in numbers, they made up for in loyalty.

  Kat leaned forward on the edge of the metal bleachers, elbow-deep in a box of popcorn, and breathed in the comforting aroma of the turf spread below her. Green grass, brown dirt, sweat, and energy. Totally different from the smells of her kitchen, but hopes and dreams baked in all different environments.

  Her friendship with Lucas made the football stadium a second home to her—well, third after her kitchen or maybe Sweetie Pies. Her gaze naturally sought him out on the sidelines. His hat was turned backward, which meant he was already stressing a little over the game, whistle dangling from his neck, clipboard tucked under his arm.

  That was Lucas. Her Lucas.

  Past tense?

  Time would tell.

  She munched another handful of popcorn, then slid over on the bench as Rachel settled in
next to her. “Snickers or Twix?” She held out the candy bar choices, and Kat plucked the Twix from her grasp.

  “You’re trying to make sure I never fit into that black dress again, aren’t you?”

  Rachel grinned, tossing back her sleek hair as she slipped off her jacket. She draped it over the bench beside her and crossed one booted ankle over the other. “Hey, you’re the one who said the dress backfired. What else are best friends for?”

  “I’m just glad your hubby stayed home with the kids so I wouldn’t be sitting here alone tonight, candy or not.” Kat ripped open the wrapper on the candy bar. “I feel like everyone is staring at me.”

  “That’s because they are.” Rachel took a delicate bite of Snickers.

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “No, really, I noticed earlier. You’re like a celebrity now.” Rachel wiped chocolate from the corner of her mouth. “It’ll get worse after the show airs. I still can’t believe what happened.”

  “Me either.” She’d told her best friend the results of the show, despite the confidentiality clause, because if you couldn’t tell your best friend, who could you tell? And since she and Lucas weren’t talking nearly as regularly since their return home last week, she’d had to vent the news to someone.

  She knew better than to turn to her mom or Stella, though she’d strongly considered Aunt Maggie at one point in recent days. There’d been a softening about her aunt since learning about her diagnosis, a rounding of the hard corners that Kat had known her entire life. For the first time since working for her, Kat actually wondered if she and Maggie could have something in common.

  Like feeling trapped. And being single.

  And now, no more Sweetie Pies. Unless someone was willing to buy it as is and keep Kat and Amy on staff and running business as usual, there was a good chance the shop would be leveled or remodeled and made into something else. Like a mattress shop, or a climate-controlled storage unit.

  Kat never thought she’d live to see the day that she’d actually miss Sweetie Pies, but she’d created a lot of history there. Those walls—and ovens—had seen a lot of dreams bred, born, and baked. It would be weird to see it go—and even weirder to know her entire future was now even bleaker than it was before she left for LA. At least then she had her old standbys, her steady paycheck and routine schedule making up her safety blanket of sorts. That blanket might be worn and scratchy and rub in all the wrong places, but it still provided a sense of security.