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“A taste of heaven,” I read one comment out loud.
“These cookies are to die for. I hope this stall is here next week. Can I buy them anywhere else?” another comment says. I look up at Oliver, a little dazed.
“They are all positive,” I say in wonder.
“Yes, Lilly, they are,” Oliver replies, grinning at me, his smiling gaze running over my face. “You have a successful business soft launch here today.”
As I continue to scroll through the comments section of Instagram, I take in both Oliver and Amy manning the booth and working so hard to make this a success for me. My eyes fill with tears as I look at the only family I have nearby, forever grateful that Amy chose my sandwich to steal almost twenty years ago.
“No tears today,” Amy states as she pulls me into a side hug. “Today is a good day.”
“These are happy tears,” I say, rushing to reassure them as Oliver looks on with concern. “I am so grateful to you both. How can I ever repay you?”
“By letting us sample the merchandise,” Amy quips as she grabs a mini muffin. “I am going to get us some fresh lemonade from that stall over there. Have you seen the guy squeezing the lemons? Be still my heart,” Amy says as she makes her way over to the juice stand.
“So, Lilly,” Oliver grabs my attention again. “You need to create a Love, Lilly Instagram page and start posting pictures of your food on there. Get people drooling over the photos. You could even post videos of you baking. I know that will provide some amusing content,” he adds with a smirk. I’m sure he is thinking back on the scene he came home to yesterday afternoon.
“Not every baking session is that chaotic, I will have you know,” I tell him with a wink. “Can you send me some of the photos you took today? I will add them as my first post.”
As Oliver sends me some pictures, I serve the next batch of customers and hear the all-too-familiar voice of Emma in the distance. That can’t be right, can it? She wouldn’t be here to lend her support.
“Hi, Lucy, cute stall you have here,” Emma says as she steps up to Oliver and kisses him on the cheek.
“Hey,” Oliver says, frowning and pulling away from her slightly. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you, of course. We didn’t have time to finish our presentations last week”—presentations?—“and our date last Friday was interrupted when you had to help Lilly get home after she let her car break down,” she adds, giving me a pointed look. Oliver looks at her, confused and a little weary.
“Sorry again about that, Emma,” I say as sincerely as possible, knowing Oliver hates when Amy and I put him in the middle of our war with Emma. Trying to be the bigger person, I offer Emma a choice of the remaining treats. “On the house,” I say.
“Oh, I just couldn’t eat that much refined sugar.” She runs her hand over her perfectly flat stomach. “That number of carbohydrates turns straight into cellulite,” she adds, looking at my thighs with a mean smile.
I flush, feeling embarrassed and small, as I often do in Emma’s presence, and now overweight and lumpy as well? As I back away and start fiddling with the cake stand, Oliver says, frowning at Emma, “You don’t need to worry about any of that, Lil.” I muster up a weak smile for him and serve the next customer, grateful to have something to do to keep me busy. If I stop to think too much about what Emma just implied, I will embarrass myself by crying. Overall, I know I have a decent body—nice, even. My boobs are perky, my hips slightly rounded (and that is the fashion these days, isn’t it?), but when I compare myself to the tall, lean, almost fragile frame of Oliver’s girlfriend, I feel like a small, round frump.
When I glance up again, Oliver and Emma have walked away looking like they are in a heated discussion, and Amy has returned with two tall glasses of iced lemonade and lemonade guy’s phone number.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, taking in my expression.
“Nothing,” I say, not wanting to get into the Emma situation with her again and end up causing more problems for Oliver. If Amy knew what Emma said to me, she would pounce on Emma like a lioness on a helpless gazelle.
“Just thirsty,” I add, taking a big drink. “So you got lemonade guy’s phone number? He’s cute!”
Amy smiles but without enthusiasm. “Yeah, he is. And he is keen to get together, so maybe I will call him?”
“You should definitely call him. Why wouldn’t you?”
“No, I will. Definitely. I will definitely call him,” Amy declares, like she is trying to convince herself this is the truth.
Before I can probe her reluctance to contact the cute man any further, Oliver returns sans Emma but now accompanied by someone else who looks familiar, one of Oliver’s friends I’ve met a few times in passing. What’s his name? David? Dan?
“Hey, guys, you remember my friend from work, Dale?” That’s it, Dale! “Dale, this is my sister, Amy. And this is Lilly.”
“Hi, Dale,” Amy and I chorus together.
Dale gives us a big, open smile, zeroing in on me with a curious look on his face. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Looks like you’ve got some amazing food here.”
Dale takes a step up to the stall and starts asking questions about the cookies and brownies and if I come to this marketplace often. With his attention focused on me, I feel my face flush. Is he flirting with me?
“So, Lilly, are you seeing anyone at the moment?” Dale asks. He is flirting with me!
