Love and Cupcakes

by Susan Bishop Crispell

  “Harper?” Mal asked, pointing to the cupcakes.

  “Yep. Pretty cool, huh?” Graham said.

  “They’re all right.”

  “Oh, c’mon. The fact that she can do the same thing with icing and cake that she can with acrylic and canvas and that you could tell it was hers right off the bat is pretty fucking amazing,” Mason said.

  Mal jerked his head. “She’s got a certain aesthetic that’s easy to peg.”

  “Doesn’t take away from the cool factor. But whatever you think of the look, they taste so good they might kill you.”

  Graham pulled two from the edge of the painting Harper had created in icing and passed them around.

  “These are good and all, but when are you coming back?” Mal asked. “We’ve passed up a couple gigs, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep the rest of the guys on hold. They’re getting restless.”

  “As long as Harp’s here, I’m here.” Mason hopped off the counter and moved to the bar. The stool scraped on the wood as he pulled it out to sit.

  Graham leaned on the counter and pretended to update the inventory sheet.

  “Then you need to get her ass in gear and come back home.”

  “I’m not going to push her, Mal. She left for a reason and we’re still trying to work through it. Until we’re back to good, I’m staying put. If you have to replace me, fine.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Mal said, sitting next to Mason.

  “Then don’t threaten me. I’m only going to say this once: If you make me choose, it’ll be her.”

  “She left you. Took off without telling you squat and you still put her first. What is with you?”

  “Graham, help me out here,” Mason said. “If it were Jack, would you give up?”

  He held his hands up in front of him. “Don’t bring me into this. Jack and I aren’t married. Hell, we’re not even together,” he said.

  “Even better. Could you leave her?”

  He didn’t need some magical first touch to tell him there’d always only been one girl for him. He might not remember their first touch, but he remembered every one that came after. “Not unless she told me to,” he conceded. Graham turned toward the back door when the alarm beeped, wanting to see Jack’s eyes brighten when she sensed what he was thinking about her, wanting to know she would never want him gone.

  Harper breezed through the doorway, depositing empty trays and linens as she went. “Jack said to tell you she was going home,” she called from the back. “Migraine.”

  “She okay?” Graham asked. His muscles relaxed and he huffed out a breath.

  “We had a slight malfunction on the way and I had to do some quick repair work. She worked herself up into a frenzy trying to keep the bride and groom away so I had time to make it look like nothing had happened. It wasn’t a big deal, but she lost it.”

  “Thanks for going with her.” He leaned on the doorjamb and tugged a chunk of pink hair when she passed.

  “That’s what I’m here for. I think maybe I need a cool title like Mistress of Repair. Maybe get an apron or nametag.”

  “Mistress of Disrepair is more like it,” Mal called when she walked out front.

  “Sounds like a good band name,” she countered.

  “If you go for the rip-your-heart-out-bitch-band types.”

  “Ouch.” Harper rubbed at her chest as if the words had physically struck her. Her mouth thinned, her eyes narrowed into slits with the sarcasm.

  Graham placed a firm hand on her arm. Looking at Mal, he said, “I get that you’re one of his best friends, but you can’t come here and say shit to his wife just because you feel like it. Whatever their issues are, you need to let them work through it. Without resorting to name calling.”

  “I’ll call her whatever I damn well please. She needs to know that she can’t just use him and then toss him aside when she’s done with him.”

  “She’s not done with me,” Mason interjected. The exasperation gave his words a hard edge.

  “Oh, so you know why she’s been treating you like crap and ignoring your calls, then? And you’re cool with being her bitch?”

  “I don’t want to fight you, man, but if you keep it up, we’re both going to end up bloody.”

  “You’ll have to wait until I’m done with him.” Graham untied his apron and tossed it on the counter. Skirting around the edge of the counter, he vibrated with frustration. His muscles quivered and pulsed as the anger spread. He couldn’t take a swing at Hutton for being an ass, but he sure as hell could take one at Mal.

  He only stopped when Harper gripped his wrist and pulled him back.

  “Graham, it’s fine. He’s not saying anything I haven’t already thought about myself.”

  “Harp.” He kept his tone light, warm with concern.

  “But that doesn’t mean I have to stay and listen to it,” she said. Strutting across the room, she tossed one manic look over her shoulder at them and slammed the door.

  No one moved for a minute, as if her exit had sucked all the life from the room.

  “Let her go,” Graham said when Mason moved toward the door. “She’ll be okay.”

  “What makes you so damn sure?” he snapped.

  “There are only a few places she’d go. And since she’s not talking to Hutton much these days, she’ll go to Jack’s. So, y’all have a little while to finish this. But if he’s still here when she gets back, you’re both gonna have to leave.”

  ***

  At the low knock on the front door, Jack unfolded from the comforting cushions of her sofa. Her headache had dulled to a minor throb. Looking out the front window, she didn’t see a car, only fat drops of rain.

  The knock sounded again. Louder.

  She opened the door to find Harper dripping on her doorstep. Her hair was slicked back and her gray hoodie sagged. Her teeth chattered when she tried to talk, so she gave up.

  “Please tell me you didn’t walk here,” Jack said. She moved aside to let her sister in and walked down the hall for some towels and a change of clothes.

  “Borrowed Graham’s bike,” Harper said when Jack came back into the room. She peeled off the sagging shirt and traded it for a towel. “Had to get away for a while.”

  “What happened?” Jack took the wet clothes and wrung them out in the bathtub. The hoodie was at least two sizes too big for Harper.

  Harper stood in the doorway and tugged on the dry clothes. She rubbed at her hair with a towel. “Graham and my idiot husband were about to get into a fight with one of Mason’s band mates who called me a heartless bitch.”

  “Seems like a good reason to fight.” Jack wiped her hands on the towel draped over Harper’s shoulders. “And a good reason to leave. But why didn’t you take your car? In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s nasty out.” She maneuvered past Harper to put the clothes in the dryer.

  “I thought it would be refreshing,” Harper said. She wore a circular path around the middle of the room. Her feet padded lightly on the wood. “I was wrong.”

  “Refreshing my ass. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make yourself sick. Only thing is, I don’t have a clue why.”

  “That would be crazy. And I’m not crazy.”

  “Right. Like riding a bike for miles in the rain is totally normal,” Jack said.

  “Totally,” her sister agreed before plopping down on the sofa beside her. Pointing to the paisley-patterned galoshes, she said, “Those are cute.”

  “Yeah. They are. I haven’t figured out what to do with them yet.”

  “Um, wear them. Or give them to me so I can.”

  “They’re not the wearing kind,” Jack said.

  “They’re rain boots. To be worn in the rain. Or maybe snow. But definitely something that’s cold and wet. What other kind is there?”

  “The sentimental kind.”

  “That doesn’t do you much good.”

  She leaned forward and pinned her sister to the couch with a steely look. “Ma
ybe not. But you’re not wearing them home. And if you try, I will cut them off your feet, no questions asked. Got it?”

  “I guess I’ll just ask Graham where he got them then.”

  Jack blushed, a burn that went all the way to her toes. There was no point in denying it—she was like cellophane when it came to Graham. And her sister never failed to call her on it.

  “Maybe I can even convince him to buy me a pair, too,” Harper continued. She continued to stare at the rain boots, transfixed by their teal and brown and orange swirls. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Am I going to want to answer it?” Jack countered.

  “Probably not. But I’m gonna ask anyway. What’s going on with you and Graham? I know how you both feel about each other, but how can you want to be with him knowing what you do about him. About his dad?”

  “What am I supposed to do, Harp? I’ve tried ignoring it and it’s gotten me nowhere. At least if we try and it doesn’t work out, I won’t be kicking myself twenty years from now for being too scared.”

  “After everything you’ve done to try and make the shop succeed, I’m just surprised you’d risk it, that’s all.”

  “He could leave for any number of reasons,” Jack said. She thought about Thalia and how Tom said she was trying to steal Graham away. She rested her head on her knee. She wondered what would happen if they both gave a relationship a real chance. The worst that could happen was him saying he didn’t feel the same. She’d been there before. And she’d gotten through it. She could do it again. She hoped. But maybe it would never come to that. “What if I’m what can make him stay?”

  “Just be careful, okay? Sometimes with love you get a lot more than you bargain for.”

  Jack saw no reason to play fair when her sister never did. If would-be boyfriends were fair game, then spouses definitely were. “I take it things aren’t any better with Mason?” Jack asked and was immediately sorry.

  The rush of affection for Harper caught her off guard. They had never been the kind of sisters who shared secrets or clothes. But in that moment, something shifted between them. The parting of a veil or an unspoken truce that said they would both try harder to make their relationship work.

  Harper looked sick. Her face was flushed, making her blond hair bright by comparison. She leaned back and tucked her legs to her chest in defense. The cushions shifted under them like sand being whisked back to sea.

  “I don’t know what to do, Jack. It was so much easier when he wasn’t around. When I could tell myself I didn’t love him. But sometimes when he looks at me I feel like I’m gonna suffocate with the weight of it.”

  “I know the feeling,” Jack said.

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

  Leaning her head back, Jack closed her eyes and said, “Yep.”

  Neither spoke for a few minutes, just sat and listened to the rain. It had changed from a pounding to a light tapping on the windowpane. She realized Graham would have to walk home in it and hoped it stopped before too long. Maybe he’d still be at the shop when she drove Harper home and she could give him a lift.

  “If you love him, why’d you leave?” Jack asked. She pulled one leg onto the cushion and turned to face her sister. “If I loved someone who loved me back just as much, you’d have to pry me off with a crowbar.”

  Harper laughed. “Now, that I’d like to see.”

  “I’m serious, Harp. From what I can tell, Mason’s great. Everything about him—his rock-star looks, sarcasm, and the childish streak that made him want to toss water balloons out of Graham’s window on the coffee shop patio the other night, which I talked him out of by the way—is like checking off your most-wanted list. And you just said you loved him. So, what’s wrong? What did he do to make you leave?”

  “Can we not talk about this right now? I promise I’ll tell you at some point. I’m just not there yet. I need a little more time to figure it all out,” Harper said, hugging a pillow to her chest. Her voice was quiet, hesitant when she asked, “Do you remember all the fights we had growing up?”

  “We had a lot. It’s hard to remember every one.”

  “I can count the number I’ve had with Hutton. And most of them have occurred in the past two months.”

  “We’ve had some pretty good ones lately, too,” Jack said.

  The difference was they’d been through it with each other enough times to know how to move past them.

  “Mama used to tell me I shouldn’t be mad at you ’cause you couldn’t help it. She said that when I was learning to talk no one could understand me. They’d hold up different toys or food, hoping I’d respond to one and they’d know what I was trying to say. And then you’d come in and tell them what I wanted like they were crazy for not understanding.”

  Jack smiled at the idea. “I don’t remember that.” If she had, they might have been able to become friends long ago.

  “You were probably too young,” Harper said. She pulled her hands into the long sleeves of the shirt she had borrowed. “But Mama said you were always right. That whatever you gave me made me happy. She said you got so used to being the only one who knew what was right for me that I couldn’t be mad at you for doing it when I was older. I disagreed, which is probably why I fought with you so much.”

  Jack looked at her, but couldn’t come up with anything to say. She’d always assumed her ability had started with Graham, with their first kiss on her seventh birthday. If Harper was right, she’d had it long before she could remember.

  “I can’t talk to Hutton or Mama and Daddy about things with Mason. Since you’ve always known what I wanted, I figured you’re the only one who can help me.”

  “I’ll try,” Jack said.

  “I’m pregnant.” The word hung in the air like a hummingbird, buzzing and vibrating.

  All the little signs Jack had written off as work fatigue and a few extra pounds from eating too many cupcakes, fell into place.

  Before she could respond, Harper rushed to add, “And I don’t want it. Mason and I never talked about whether we wanted kids or not. Makes it a little difficult to be around him.”

  “He doesn’t know?” Jack asked. It came out as an accusation—harsh and whip-like—though she hadn’t intended it to.

  “God, no. If he did, it would’ve made leaving him ten times worse. He’s annoyed right now because things were great and he can’t figure out why I left. But if he knew what I want to do, he’d be furious. And he would hate me. I don’t want him to hate me, Jack.” She laid her head on her sister’s shoulder and, wrapping her arms around Jack, snuggled in close.

  Jack stroked her hair, running her fingers through the sleek mass of it. It was silky and thick and fell like a waterfall as she lifted it and dropped it back into place. “I’d forgotten you used to do this when I was scared and didn’t want to sleep in my own bed,” Harper said.

  “How far along are you?”

  “Far enough,” she said.

  “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, Harp. I need to know what we’re dealing with and whether it is even feasible to do what you’re thinking.”

  “I still have time, if that’s what you’re asking. At least another month, maybe a little longer. What I need help with is how to do this without telling Mason and then have him take me back. And before you start, I know how that sounds. But I really do love him. And I want our marriage to work. I just can’t do this.”

  “You can’t have it both ways,” Jack said. Harper pulled away to glare at her before laying her head back down. “He deserves better. And if you love him like you say you do, then you know you have to give him the option. Otherwise, it’s all going to blow up in your face and it’ll be even harder to pick up the pieces.”

  “Why can’t we just stay like this forever?”

  “Because my arm’s getting tired and you’re gonna fall asleep.”

  “Stupid bodies,” Harper muttered like a disgruntled child. “Getting tired and pregnant, whether we want them to or not.”
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  Jack pressed her lips together. For the first time in recent memory, Harper not only needed her, but wanted her. She let the thought settle over them both, protecting and comforting, as they lapsed into silence.

  ***

  Hutton was waiting for Graham on the sidewalk out front of Graham’s apartment. Graham clenched his jaw and shoved through the door. He wasn’t about to walk away from this fight.

  “What do you want?” Graham asked. He strapped on his helmet and mounted his bike, which Jack had driven back to him the night before. Graham and Hutton hadn’t said more than a few words to each other since their last ride.

  Hutton kicked his pedal back and forth. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about your dad.”

  “Damn right you shouldn’t have.”

  “It was a shitty thing to do. I know that. It’s just everyone always said you were practically his clone. They compared everything you did to how he was at your age and I just thought that if it was true, that you’d end up bailing, too.”

  Graham clenched his jaw. “I’m not my father,” he spat. It might’ve been a valid point at seventeen when he didn’t have a clue what he wanted to do with his life, but now it was just insulting. “You know me better than that, man. How in the hell could you still think I’d let myself turn out like that? That I’d walk out on Mama or you or anyone else I love?”

  “Listen, Graham, I said I was sorry.”

  “No, actually, you didn’t.” Graham would’ve taken off without waiting for a response, but Hutton moved his bike into Graham’s path.

  “All right, I’m sorry,” Hutton said.

  “Okay.” He pushed off and shot down the street.

  Hutton fell in beside him before he reached the next block. They didn’t talk for the next four miles. Just let the wind whip their faces, blowing away the things they’d left unsaid.

  Knowing the pace would be difficult for Hutton, who only biked when Graham was training for a race, Graham kept his speed fast. His lungs burned as he pushed harder. After another half mile, Hutton huffed and wheezed behind him. Graham eased up, letting the shops and restaurants, cars and pedestrians come back into focus.