Page 31 of Crack the Ice

My hands itch to clean it up, clean myself up before I continue, but I need to do this now. Otherwise, it’s not going to be ready by the time she gets here, and then… I’ll be another person who let her down.

“Mav, it’s fine, just melt it a bit. Or use it how it is. It’s not going to ruin the cake.”

It did ruin the cake. It’s crumbly and didn’t form right. I don’t know what I did wrong, but it doesn’t even look good. I can’t give this to her. God, I should have bought her a freaking cake. But nooo, I had to do it myself, convinced it’d mean more. Now what?

“It smells good in here,” her voice floats through the air, and I whip my head around fast enough that my neck cracks. She’s early. Crap.

“Oh, uh…”

She peeks around me, eyes widening when they land on my failed experiment. “You made cake?”

My hand wraps around the back of my neck, squeezing a few times as I try to come up with the words to say, or an apology for it being awful.

“He made it for your birthday,” Kelsey sings, as she saunters through the kitchen like she didn’t just drop a bomb in the middle of it.

“For me?” Her eyes widen, then slowly fill with tears.

I nod, still not knowing what to say.

“Wow, that was nice of you, Maverick. Can I try it?”

“Yeah, um. I’m not sure that it’s any good. I think I did it wrong,” I rush out, hoping she’ll change her mind.

“I’m sure it’s great.” Her smile is blinding as she steps toward it, swiping her finger through the globed-on frosting and quickly licking it off, before smiling up at me.

“Buttercream is my favorite,” she whispers.

Heat floods my cheeks. I didn’t know that, but the Food Network said buttercream was the most popular. So, I guess I did something right. I grab a knife and cut it down the middle, cringing when clumps of cake fall out around it.

Handing her a plate, I cut a smaller piece for myself. I’m not huge on cake, well, unless it’s a cupcake. But I figure the birthday girl probably shouldn’t eat alone. And wait, where did both of my sisters go?

“Do you want me to sing to you?” I ask, passing her a fork.

A red flush travels up her neck until it coats the tips of her ears. “Oh God, please don’t.”

I tap my fork to hers, smiling because thank God, that would have been awkward as hell. “Cheers then.”

“Cheers,” she whispers before digging in. I watch in horror as she takes the first bite and her eyes do that weird thing when you bite into something sour, but you’re trying to be brave about it.

Oh shit, I royally messed this up. “You don’t have to eat that. I told you I didn’t do it right.”

She shakes her head, swallowing roughly before going in for another bite. This is torture. I take a bite, hoping that it takes my focus off her for a second. It doesn’t. This is worse than I thought. It’s like eating sand straight from the beach.

I open my mouth, letting the bite I took fall ungracefully back on the plate before swiping her plate and tossing them both in the trash.

“Hey, I was eating that.”

“Cecilia, that was awful.”

Tears fill her eyes again, and I wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her into me. “It wasn’t awful. You made it. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“It can mean a lot to you and still be awful. Let’s call a spade a spade, Cecy.”

She chuckles against me before pulling back and turning toward the cake of embarrassment. “I should have taken a picture of it first.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. It was just a cake.

“Thank you, Maverick. I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”