“Just like it’s not yours?”
She held my gaze, and I stuttered, stomach clenching. “Y-yeah. Exactly.” It felt sour on my tongue.
She mumbled something about lies we tell ourselves when my phone rang loudly through the store. The other three gave me a look.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked at her flared nostrils.
“We don’t even have our ringers on,” Phil or John said, with more attitude than I appreciated.
Brooks cackled. “See!”
“How else will I hear if there’s an emergency?” I showed my phone to Brooks. “See, it’s him.”
“He is actually calling. Gawd, there are two of you.” She shook her head.
“Hello?” I said. “Is everything okay?”
“Is he calling to ask how to use the white pages?” Brooks whispered, and I pushed her face away.
“Everything’s fine,” Harrison said with pep. “Question. Do we have those doohickeys for cupcakes? I’m not sure what they’re called,” Harrison asked.
“A mixer?” I asked.
“Those papers with crinkled edges,” Collette called out in the background.
“She knows what I meant,” Harrison said.
I had no idea that was what he meant. Little giggles followed after whatever he did on the other end.
“Maybe he forgot where the checkbook is,” Brooks said to the guys.
They all laughed their heads off.
I stepped away, covering my other ear. “I don’t think we do. Need me to get some?” I asked. A wave of unease passed over me. Had he ever baked cupcakes before? I thought of the burned microwave popcorn I found in the trash.
“Nah. We can figure it out. Can’t we, ladies?” A chorus of cheers went up.
“Oh. Um, I really think you need them to make cupcakes,” I said, already imagining smoke billowing out of the oven.
“How do we feel about a cake instead?” he asked. A chorus of boos broke out.
“Just hang out. I will hit the store and head home now.” I was already grabbing my bag.
“No. No. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Harrison’s voice sounded muffled as though he held the phone with his shoulder. “Everything is under control here.”
“Is that Frankie?” George’s voice joined the background chaos. “Can you ask her to get those cookies I like. But tell her they’re for you. She won’t let me have them if she knows. Too much sugar.”
“Me neither,” Collette said.
“That’s rude,” another little girl voice said.
“I can hear you, George,” I said loudly.
“Really, Frankie. Everything is fine.” Harrison laughed.
Clearly.
“I don’t mind,” I said. “Brooks doesn’t need me anymore anyway. I’ll be home in a jiffy. Please don’t try to make cupcakes without them.”
