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SELENA:
You don’t bake
Or cook
LILY:
Trust me, I know. But I need to learn how to make a pie that won’t get laughed out of the hospital fundraiser’s baking competition…
SELENA:
Why would you volunteer for that? Why don’t you just donate some flowers or something? I have so many questions
LILY:
It’s a long story. Will you please help me?
SELENA:
Of course. But we’re in L.A. for a bit
LILY:
Maybe you could send me the recipe and we could FaceTime?
Or you could just come home to Western Springs and bake it for me…
No. I need to do it myself. I’d feel too guilty about lying for charity!
SELENA:
I’ll see what I can do, but Jackson has some work stuff in the city, so I don’t know when we’ll be back next
LILY:
I will take any and all help you can give me. In person. On a screen. I’ll take good vibes. I need all the help I can get.
SELENA:
It’ll be fine. It’s just pie. Nothing to worry about. I mean they do say easy as apple pie…
LILY:
Easy for you to say…
Around noon, I decide to take a nap since Jameson didn’t let me get a whole lot of sleep last night. I don’t know how he got up so early to get out to the farm. Oh, wait. Yes, I do.
Because he’s twenty-six.
When I wake up, it’s because someone’s knocking on the back door. There is no chance in hell I’m getting up to answer the door. Even if getting out of this bed and making it to the door didn’t feel about as accessible as a trek up Mount Everest right now.
I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. And by the time I actually make it to the door, whoever it is will be long gone.
So, I lie in bed, waiting impatiently for them to just go ahead and leave.
And then I hear my back door open.
What the hell?
