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I zoom in on his face and a tear falls into my ice cream.
I miss him so fucking much it hurts.
Upset at myself for crying, I swipe the tears away and set the phone down. I put the lid back on the ice cream and return it to the freezer. Picking up my phone, I put a reminder into it to call the party store and bakery tomorrow so Taryn doesn’t hound me.
I look at the multiple wine bottles and decide I’m not in the mood. The vodka looks better. I pour a couple of shots into a glass and splash some orange juice in it. I down it in one gulp.
I have got to stop drinking. I’m ridiculous.
The warm numbness spreads through my body and I wander to the couch, turn on the television, and search for something distracting until it’s time for bed.
Twenty-Two
Christa
Idrive to the bakery, stressed to the max. I know how particular Taryn is. She didn’t tell me what the cake was supposed to look like, only that the inside of it was supposed to be pink or blue according to the results.
I park and get out, heading inside.
“Hi, can I help you?” an attendant asks with a smile.
“I’m here to pick up a custom order,” I reply.
“Name?”
“Taryn Lockwood.”
She said she was going to pick this up herself, but I don’t trust her ass not to cheat and peek. Though, how could you? It’s not like I can cut into the damn thing to make sure it’s blue or pink.
“Be right back,” she says.
She quickly returns holding a large pink box. She sets it on the counter and opens the lid carefully. It’s a round white cake with pink and blue piping along the edges, andBaby Lockwoodwritten in the middle, thebabyin blue and theLockwoodin pink. It’s adorable. I verbally confirm the correct color is inside, and the baker eases my mind by pulling out her phone and showing me a video of the cake as it’s being frosted, and then the end result.
Wow, very classy, and awesome.
She informs me it’s already paid for. I thank her, leave, and then head to the party supply store.
