AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“In a moment,” I called after her.
My phone dinged, startling me.
Sunny: Depends.
Me: On?
Sunny: Think you can handle both of us again?
My body lit up.
My phone rang that time.
“Sick of texting, old man?” I laughed.
Sunny chuckled. “This is easier and then I can jerk off to the sound of your voice.”
I coughed. “Well, that’s an image.”
“A good one I hope.”
I laughed. “Yeah, a very good one.”
“Good. What? Yes, I know.” A muffled voice sounded in the background. “I’m about to ask her if you untwist those panties, Shade. You’re worse than a woman. Ow. Fucker.”
“What are you wanting to ask me that has your boy riled up?” I jumped up onto the hood of Gigi’s car.
“We want you to come over for dinner,” Sunny finally said.
My stomach tumbled when I realized he never commented about me referring to Shade ashis boy. Maybe things were finally looking up for them. Or they had talked. Or fucked. I was betting on the former. I wasn’t sure Sunny was ready to take that next step yet.
“I can do that,” I told him. “I’m free Thursday night.”
“That works for us, pet.”
I shivered. God, I loved when he called me that.
“We’ll see you then. Oh and, Meadow?”
“Yeah?”
“I suggest bringing an overnight bag, but you won’t be needing any clothes.”
I smirked. “Do I get a say in this?”
“Nope.” And with that, Sunny hung up.
I shook my head, stuffed my phone into my bag, and headed into The Dove Project. I was greeted by the receptionist. Giving her a small wave, I hiked the strap of my bag up onto my shoulder and made my way to the kitchen. I needed some therapy and baking would be the only way to do it.
While most people worked out, went for a run, or even did art, I baked. And I baked a lot. But it never amounted to anything more than me just baking for local delis and restaurants. I had been told several times that I could sell my baked goods in grocery stores and mass produce them, but I believed that it would ruin the product. Unless I could teach people to bake like me, there was no way I was selling my goods. Hell, I didn’t even know what half the recipes called for. I just guessed most of the time and if the final product turned out great, then that was an added bonus.
Once I reached the large kitchen, a sense of calm washed over me. This was my happy place. It didn’t matter where the kitchen was. Any and all kitchens just made me…happy. At peace. It was where I belonged. Not in a sexist way either but because I actually wanted to be there.
“You’ll make a man happy one day, kiddo.”
My mom smacked Dad playfully. “Even if she didn’t bake or spend most of her time in the kitchen, she’d make a man happy.”
Dad scowled. “That’s not what I meant, princess.”
