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He jumps back in the truck, leaving the four-tier cake right there on the curb, and soon, we’re roaring off down the street again. This time, I have the seatbelt jammed on over the stupid pile of pouf caging my body in. I’m sure this dress could act as an actual airbag if we were in an accident, but I don’t really want to test that theory.
“You stole it,” I gasp between gales of laughter.
“That’s right. Today, I stole all the cakes!”
“Technically, it’s just one. One extremely tall one with four layers, or rather, four tiers. Whatever.”
“That’s right. Whatever. Because this is a grand ass cake heist. Were you in any doubt?”
“I thought you and your siblings and cousins just licked cakes?”
The Cromwell kids have a tradition. Their granny always brings a cake to every family event, and the kids, ever since they were little, will try and sneak into wherever the cake is hidden and lick it. Or put their fingers in it and taste it. It has gotten a little bit out of control over the years, and now, it’s like a challenge. Their granny will hide the cake, and they’ll try to find it and lick it in the least obvious spot to see if anyone can find it.
Regardless, this takes things up a notch.
“I have to send that photo to Ash and Kirian. And to Toren and Leandra.”
I grab his phone when he passes it over. Pulling up the ever-long group text, I send the photo with a brilliant caption, saying, I’ve outshart myself. I mean outdid myself. Shart…I mean, shoot. Sharts not included.
Once I hit send, I pass his phone back, barely able to stifle a devious grin of my own. The shart thing is an inside joke. It dates back to when Taylen was younger and had a bit of an accident because he was nervous. I mean, things happen when a person is nervous. Almost immediately, his phone starts blowing up, but since he’s driving, he can’t look.
God, I love my best friend, but this one is payback for making me sweat through half of those rancid vows back at the church before he saved my bacon at the very last possible second. All because he had to steal the stupid cake to prove a bloody point.
CHAPTER 2
Taylen
When we pull over for gas at some tiny little station about an hour outside New Orleans, I check my phone. I’ve heard it constantly buzzing since Elodie sent the text about the cake. I can’t wait to read what my twin, Toren, sister, Leandra, and cousins, Ash and Kirian, think about the biggest lick heist of all time. Oh, yeah, the cake was most definitely not just stolen. I also licked it thoroughly. On. Every. Tier.
I start to scroll up to the top of the group text to read what I missed while Elodie sits suspiciously silent in the passenger seat, surrounded by bows and poofy lace. She hates bows. And lace. Well, most bows and lace anyway. I don’t need to see the scowl on her face to know it’s a wedding dress from hell. I know her mom picked it out, but damn. I don’t think even Cinnamon, her grandmother, can come up with something so awful.
I see a lot of laughing emojis, some laughing emojis with tears leaking out, and poop emojis. I’m momentarily confused because what does poop have to do with cake, but when I finally get to the top of the group text, I see why.
There’s a picture of me with the cake, followed by a lovely caption, which says, I’ve outshart myself. I mean outdid myself. Shart…I mean, shoot. Sharts not included.
I suck in a furious gulp of air while Elodie turns to look at me and innocently blinks her baby blues in my direction. Her wedding makeup is over the top, but she’s still as gorgeous as ever. Her hair is like liquid honey spilling over her shoulders, the curls now fading in the heat and humidity yet still beautiful. Only the dress is garish, but still. On Elodie, I don’t think anything could be ugly.
My best friend is beautiful. She’s always been pretty, but when she hit twelve, she turned into a goddess. I know because it pretty much became a full-time job for me to swat guys away like flies and beat up the assholes and ignoramuses who dared look at her wrong from there on out.
I look back at my phone and scroll through the responses even though my palm is now sticky and my armpits are getting moist with humiliation.
Kirian: You stole Elodie’s wedding cake? (Gaping mouth emoji.) Or is that someone else’s cake? Taking it out of the building is going too far. She’s going to be pissed. You’ll be lucky if her mom doesn’t hunt you down, cut off your balls, and proudly wear them as earrings throughout the reception. (Orange emoji, ear emoji, orange emoji, ear emoji.)
