Page 2 of Kylie’s Kakes

Jasmine made about a million tiny paper hats for her doll. She cut them freehand out of cardstock while Poppy narrated a whole soap opera plot for her doll that involved a scandal at a pretend bakery. When the doll got swept off her feet by a handsome Daddy in need of cupcakes, I tried not to be jealous. Finding love happened for some people and didn’t happen for others. The way it was looking, I was gonna be on the wrong side of that spectrum, but I tried not to dwell on what I didn’t have. Especially when what I did have was an amazing group of friends who loved me and allowed me to be Little when I needed to.

"See?" Poppy waggled the little paper figure in my direction. "Even pretend Kylie has a bakery. It's basically a sign."

"Pretend Kylie also just got engaged to a pretend cupcake Daddy in the span of ten minutes, so I wouldn't put too much stock in her judgment."

By the time the Daddies started to head over for pickups, we were drifting off our sugar highs. Willa had shed her shirt somewhere between the coloring books and the cartoons and was sprawled across Troy's lap in nothing but her diaper, humming along to a show she'd definitely seen a hundred times already.

Cassie had a pacifier tucked in one cheek and her head on Duke's shoulder. The Daddies were all settled into the couches like this was just a regular night with their baby girls.

I supposed, it was.

I sat cross-legged on the rug with my coloring page half finished, trying not to pay too close attention to it all happening around me. But no matter how cozy and content I felt around my friends, I always felt a heavy blanket of loneliness too.

Feeling alone in a room full of people who loved me was the worst kind of alone.

Suddenly, I wanted a bottle. Even if I didn’t have a Daddy to cuddle me when I drank it, I still wanted it. I wanted to close my eyes and relax and not think about sad things anymore. I couldn’t even focus on my coloring.

That was how I knew it was time to go home. I had bottles tucked away in the kitchen that I brought out when I had sadsies. And I was definitely feeling big sadsies.

I stood up and stretched, overexaggerating how tired I was. “I’m gonna head out now.”

“You need a ride?” Carter asked, but all the Daddies looked ready to step in if I said yes.

“No, thanks. I’m good. Have a good night.” After hugs for everyone, Poppy walked me to the door with a to-go container of leftover cake. I didn’t need it, but I wasn’t gonna say no. I might get peckish on the three-minute drive home.

"Thank you for my cake." She hugged me again, holding on extra tight like she knew I needed it. "It was seriously the best thing I've eaten in weeks."

"I’m still working on my technique." I pulled back and stepped out onto the sidewalk. "But I'm glad you liked it."

"Everyone liked it, Ky." She was my biggest cheerleader. "Text when you get home so we know you’re safe."

The walk to my car wasn't long, but the night was cool enough that I pulled my cardigan tighter and let my mind wander to what it would be like to have a forever Daddy. Troy was great for me, and I was probably good for him for a while, but we both knew we weren’t forever.

But it was clear that he and Willa were a different story. They were forever.

And I was…alone.

I was digging for my keys when my phone buzzed against my hip.

I almost didn't check it because it was late, but the manners ingrained in me didn’t allow me to ignore anyone. So, I pulled it out right there on the sidewalk.

It was a message from an unknown number. I was about to block it when I glanced at it and gasped. Hi! This is Isla, Poppy's friend. I saw her post with the cake you made her, and I’m OBSESSED. Any chance you'd make one for my husband's birthday next month? The quote I got for a similar cake was $800, so as long as you’re less than 1k, I’d like to place an order. Send a link to your payment app.

I read it twice to make sure I wasn’t confused. A one and a K meant a thousand dollars, right? I would have done it for $50, just enough to cover my expenses…but if she was willing to pay a thousand dollars for a cake similar to Poppy’s, then maybe I could make a real business out of it.

I thought about my terrible oven that never seemed to be calibrated right and the way my wrist hurt after hours of piping those flowers to be just right.

Then I thought about the way everyone had gone quiet when they tasted the cake and the look of joy they couldn’t have faked if they tried.

Yes, I’d love to bake your husband’s cake. I sent my reply before I could talk myself out of it. $800 is good. I’ll text a link tomorrow, and we can talk about your ideas.

I got in my car and sat there with the phone in my lap and my heart racing. I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement, but it was probably both. I had absolutely no idea what I'd just agreed to, but I knew I wasn't gonna back out of it now.

Terrified or not, I was officially starting a custom cake business.

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JORDAN