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“Everything I need to make babka, challah rolls, dreidel cookies, and more sufganiyot.”
She was stress baking, like she always did before a long flight. Colby loved to travel—she’d been all over the world—but she was a nervous flyer. She coped by staying up and baking the entire night before so she’d pass out as soon as the plane hit cruising altitude. But this was extreme, even for Colby. “Are you planning to take some home because I can’t eat that many doughnuts?”
Colby shot her a do-you-need-more-coffee glare. “One, yes, you totally can, and two, it’s for you to take to Al’s tomorrow.”
“How—”
“I heard her tell Tony to add one.”
“I was thinking of skipping out.”
Colby shook her head hard enough to dislodge the rest of her flagging topknot. “Nope. You like her, she likes you, and I don’t want you to spend First Night alone.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know. Al is fucking hot.”
“Colby!”
She shrugged and flicked her hair out of her face. “I’m not wrong.”
CC didn’t see a way out of this convo; Colby was relentless. And maybe she needed to have it anyway, to work out where she was with things in her own head, where things might go with Al and if she was okay with that. Colby was the only person who knew her entire story, what it would mean for CC to put herself out there again. “You’re not wrong,” she admitted.
“She strikes me as the Domme type too.”
“You’re not wrong there either.”
“Ooh, score for you, sis!”
“She’s another attorney, Col. After San Francisco...” Her words died as they turned the corner onto their street, as she remembered another much hillier street where hope had died a swift and fiery death. “I can’t start over, not again. I don’t have another bar exam in me.”
Colby snorted. “Not sure I would survive another one either.” They both laughed, but it was half-hearted, tinged with sadness and shared commiseration. Colby only spoke again once they reached their house. “You have to do what feels right, CC, but if you do pursue something, I don’t think it’ll be like last time. I’ve been working at Dram for a while now, with Al’s family, and they’re good people. She seems like good people too. She doesn’t seem like an immature, power-hungry, shitty Domme.”
CC both winced and laughed at the succinct, too accurate description of her ex. And she tended to agree. Al was mature, successful, and completely at ease in her skin, nothing like Quinn. But that wasn’t the only concern CC had when it came to a possible postdeal relationship with Al. And that was what it would need to be: a relationship, not just the occasional hookup. CC didn’t do casual; she knew that about herself and wasn’t about to lie and say otherwise for even the best lay. “I don’t even know how long she’s in NOLA for. Her family is in California.”
“Well,” Colby said as they climbed the couple of steps, carrying the cart, “you are barred there. Isn’t that convenient?”
“I have no intention of leaving here or you.” CC waited while Colby unlocked the door to her side of the house, then rolled the cart in behind her. “In any event, nothing can happen until after we close this deal. I can’t compromise this for my clients.” CC closed and locked the door, only to be bear-hugged by her sister.
“You’re a good attorney, sis. And a good sister and friend.”
She rested her head against her sister’s temple. “And I will take you to the airport at fuck-off early because I love you, but I will not make it there and back safely if I stay up all night with you baking.”
“Just snore from the couch and keep me company?”
CC returned Colby’s cheek-smacking kiss from earlier. “I can do that.”
Chapter Eleven
CC stood on the sidewalk in front of a gorgeous two-story Irish Channel home, its siding painted seafoam green, its trim and balconies white, and the front door a bright canary yellow. Lights shone from the floor-to-ceiling windows, a string of metallic letters spelling out CHAG SAMEACH! stretched across the upstairs balcony, and a matching wreath of blue, silver, and gold was hung on the front door.
Said door swung open, and CC had to do a double take. If it weren’t for the mohawk of black curls and the familiar smile, she might not have recognized Tony in cargo shorts and a tee instead of his usual behind-the-bar jeans, vest, and starched shirt.
“Hey, CC.” He jogged down the front steps and joined her on the sidewalk. “Let me help you with that.” Bending, he lifted one end of the cart full of baked goods while CC picked up the other, the two of them carefully navigating the brick steps.
“Colby went a little overboard,” she said.
“You should see the pastry freezer at Dram.”
