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From PlainJane2 to GothamGuardian5:
I’m sorry to say we have nothing in common there. I don’t like heights (but not scared of flying in a plane) and I would never want to know what other people are thinking. I’d rather be oblivious to all that.
I’d pick the power to be able to eat whatever I wanted and not gain weight. Or the ability to disappear when things get rough. It’s very unfortunate I can’t just teleport when I’m in a crappy situation.
MORGAN WASN’T ABLE TO JUDGE the cakes last night because after we’d frosted and decorated them, she deemed it a tie and said both cakes looked equally good. Which was completely unfair because my cake was clearly superior.
She said she’d need to taste them in order to decide. Since I knew we would all be at my parents’ house tonight for dinner, I brought both cakes with me for Morgan to judge, and bonus, my family can eat them for dessert. I don’t need to have an entire cake at my disposal and Graham didn’t want his because he’s not really a sugar guy, which led to a whole discussion about that because who doesn’t like sugar?
I can’t wait until after dinner for Morgan to make her decision, so while my mom is finishing up the mashed potatoes, I’m making Morgan do her judging duties.
“Hmm,” she says, after taking a bite of mine. We never specified whose was whose because we didn’t want her to have any bias in her decision. Graham may think I’m doing this to be fair to him since she’s practically family and might show some favoritism toward me, but really, it’s because I’m pretty sure her bias would be toward him. Both because he’s attractive and because she knows it would annoy me.
“This isn’t The Great British Baking Show, Morg,” I say, watching her as she intently takes another bite of Graham’s. She’s gone back and forth a few times now, her brow furrowed as she concentrates.
“Clearly,” she says after swallowing the morsel of cake. “If it were, I’d expect these to taste a hell of a lot better.”
Really, they should taste mostly the same. We both made a vanilla cake with vanilla frosting. However, we were using different recipes with different measurements, so I knew they’d vary a little. But by the way Morgan keeps taking little bites and making “hmm” sounds, you’d think there was a fancy cake stand and a bouquet of flowers on the line.
She sets her fork down and lets out a very self-important-sounding breath. Like this has been a tough journey for her.
“I’m going to go with this one,” she says, pointing to the cake on the left.
“That’s mine!” I practically screech, eliciting a “Keep it down!” from my dad, who’s setting the dining room table.
“You both could work on your skills, though,” she says. “Graham’s cake was a little too dense, and yours was kind of on the dry side.”
“Okay, Mary Berry,” I say.
Ryan comes over and takes Morgan’s fork and in only a few bites, finishes off the rest of her piece.
I grab my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and send a text to Graham.
Lucy: I won
I quickly make Morgan pose in front of the cakes, having her point to mine, and I shoot the picture off as proof.
After a minute my phone dings.
Graham: I demand a revote
Lucy: No way am I doing that. Morgan took too long as it was
Lucy: So, we’re tied
Graham: That will change tonight since I killed today’s challenge
Lucy: There’s no way you beat me
Today’s challenge was to do a random act of kindness. I paid for not only one, but three of the cars behind me when I stopped to get coffee this morning. Not only that, I also donated some clothes to a shelter. Yes, they had been sitting in the back of my car for months, but it still counts.
“Time to eat,” my mom yells, and we all file into the dining room.
We’ve always had a big dining room table to seat the six of us and still have room to invite others—we were that house growing up, the one everyone wanted to be at.
Today as we all sit around the table with the delicious food my mom has prepared, we barely fit. With Milly and Caden, and my sisters-in-law and future sister-in-law, there are no seats left at the table. I’m sure Derek and Lauren will have kids at some point too, and Morgan and Ryan will be starting their life together this summer. Where will that leave me? I’ll happily sit at the kids table when we get too big for this one. But will I be happy? That’s a dumb question. Of course I can be happy being alone. Tons of people do it all the time. Still, that pang of what could be runs down my spine.
“Save room for dessert,” my mom says as we all stuff our faces with her amazing roast and potatoes. It’s my favorite meal of hers and tastes just like my childhood. I wonder if Graham remembers her roast, considering he had many family dinners with us, and it was the meal most often on rotation.
