Page 89 of Frosted Fakes

"Mmmm, yes. She was very passionate about it. Called me specially." Gabby's smile turned knowing, the kind of smile that made Elliott want to check her pockets for missing valuables. "It's rather sweet, actually. She clearly thinks the world of you."

Elliott felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. The warmth of the morning, the perfect croissants, the stupid smile she'd worn watching Julia leave, all of it curdled into something cold and sharp in her chest.

Julia had sent her manuscript to Gabby. Without asking. Without even mentioning it. She'd taken Elliott's work, her dream, the thing she'd poured years of her life into, and handed it over to her mother like it was a school project that needed a gold star.

"I didn't ask for your help," Elliott heard herself say.

Gabby's perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. "No, Julia did. On your behalf. I assumed she would have told you by now."

"She didn't."

A flicker of something crossed Gabby's face. Surprise, maybe. Or the dawning realization that she'd walked into the middle of a domestic situation. "Ah. Well. That's… awkward."

"You could say that."

The bell chimed again, and Julia appeared in the doorway, a carton of milk in her hand and a smile on her face that faltered the moment she saw her mother. "Mum? What are you doing here?"

"Delivering good news, apparently." Gabby's tone had cooled considerably. "Though it seems I may have been premature."

Julia's eyes darted to Elliott, and Elliott watched the realization dawn. Watched the color drain from Julia's face like water down a sink. "Elliott, I can explain…"

"Can you?" Elliott's voice came out flat. Controlled. The way it always did when she was trying very hard not to fall apart. "Because I'd love to hear you explain sending my manuscript to your mother without telling me."

"And that’s my cue to leave," Gabby said, sidling toward the door. "I don’t do drama if I don’t have a starring role, and this is all so boringly domestic."

She left, and Elliott stared at Julia.

"I was trying to help," Julia said, her face pale.

"I didn't ask for your help."

"I know, but…"

"You never ask, do you?" The words were sharp now, sharper than Elliott intended, but she couldn't stop them. "You just decide what people need and then you fix it. Like we're all just problems to be solved. Like I'm a problem to be solved. Throw money at the problem, throw influence at it, and it’ll all go away."

Julia flinched. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Elliott laughed, and it came out bitter. "Your mother bought you a bakery you didn't want. So you fixed it by getting me to do all the baking. Now I've got a cookbook I can't sell, so you fix that too. Send it to mummy. Let her connections do the work. Problem solved."

"I was standing up for you. For the first time in my life, I asked my mother for something, and it was for you."

"I don't need you to stand up for me!" Elliott's voice cracked. She hated that. Hated that Julia could get under her skin like this, could make her feel so much when she'd spent years building walls specifically designed to prevent this exact thing. "I needed you to trust me. To believe that I could do this on my own. But you don't, do you? You look at me and see someone who needs saving. A charity case. A fixer-upper."

"That's not—"

"I was going to ask her myself."

The words fell into the silence like stones into still water. Julia stared at her.

"What?"

"Your mother." Elliott's throat felt tight. "I was working up to it. Trying to find the courage to ask for help, even though asking for help makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. And then you just… you took that from me. You decided I couldn't do it, so you did it for me. You made me look like a coward."

Julia's eyes were bright with tears. "I didn't know. Elliott, I swear, I didn't know you were planning…"

"Because you didn't ask." Elliott turned away, pressing her hands against the counter, trying to steady herself. "You just assumed you knew what was best."

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Elliott could feel Julia behind her, could practically hear her searching for the right words. But there weren't any right words. That was the whole point.