He opens my car door and I slide in with the cake on my lap.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Drew inclines his head towards the cake. I shrug. I didn’t mind. I like excuses to bake and I don’t get them very often these days, which means that I still bake, but I end up eating most of it myself. Sugar has a very special, oversized place on my food pyramid. “You’ll get points with my mom, though. She’s pregnant. Again,” he adds pointedly, “and she loves chocolate.”
We pull into Drew’s driveway about ten minutes later. He lives in a development a few miles down the road from Margot’s. He parks the car and kills the engine but he doesn’t move to get out. He looks uncomfortable, which makes me uncomfortable. I’m really hoping he doesn’t hit on me in the car in front of his parents’ house, because I’ll have to get pissed and the cake will probably not survive. He turns to me and takes a breath. He’s not smiling, and when he speaks, the tone of voice is completely different from what I’m used to with him. The cocky self-assuredness is gone and that makes me nervous. I’m accustomed to his brash over-confidence. I’m prepared for it and it puts us on even footing, like neither of us is real.
“I really am sorry.” The sincerity in his words catches me off-guard. I would have been ready for a full-on assault of charm and creative come-ons but I’m completely unprepared for the utterly guileless apology I’m getting. Maybe this is his new angle. He turns his eyes to the windshield, and I’m glad, because I’m more at ease with him not looking right at me. “You were ok with Bennett, you know. Josh is the best person I know. I wouldn’t have left you anywhere else. I know it was shitty and I probably should have taken you home and taken care of you myself since it was kind of my fault in the first place. If there are two choices, I’m usually going to pick the wrong one, but I really didn’t do it to be an ass**le. Just comes naturally.” He stops talking and is quiet for a minute before looking back at me again.
“We good?”
I tilt my head and study him. Are we? Yes, I think we are. As much as I’d like to question his motives, I also kind of want to believe he’s not a completely awful person. Then at least I’ll have an excuse for why I can’t seem to dislike him.
“Good enough?” he tries.
I nod. Yes, good enough.
“Good enough,” he repeats, without question this time, and the tell-tale flirt comes back into his voice. His posture loosens and he seems to relax. He’s back in familiar territory. “Let’s go inside before I give in to the fantasy I’m having of covering you in that cake and licking the frosting off.”
I glare at him. I’m kind of glad to have this Drew back. I roll my eyes and shake my head. He shrugs, resigned.
“Sorry. Nature’s a bitch. Can only fight it for so long.” He comes around to open the car door and offers to take the cake for me but I shake my head. I need to hold it. I cling to the cake like a lifeline as I walk up to the house, hoping my left hand doesn’t choose now to stutter and make me drop it. A three-layer cake with scratch fudge frosting, adorned with piles of shaved curls of dark chocolate, was probably overkill but I’m hoping it does its job and that they’ll notice the cake instead of me.
We walk into a high-ceilinged foyer that opens up into an exquisitely furnished living room. It’s pristine. I feel like I should take my shoes off so my heels don’t tear into the Berber carpet but that would probably be weird. Plus, as much as the shoes hurt my feet, they give me comfort. I used to perform in front of audiences, now I hide behind cake and high heels. Drew leads me back through a formal dining room. The table must seat at least ten people. It’s already set with china and fabric napkins that are folded to look like swans. Drew must notice me gaping at it.
“Told you my mom likes to pretend we’re civilized once a week.” Civilized is one thing. This is something different entirely. “It’s usually not this bad. I think she went a little overboard because I told her I was bringing you. Usually it’s just us and Josh. And he doesn’t count as company.” What the crap? I’m not sure which part of that little explanation I’m supposed to panic about first; either the part where his mother appears to have prepared for the coming of the queen because of me or the part where Josh Bennett is expected. Both are equally appalling but I think I’m giving the edge to Josh. As much as I fear the scrutiny of Drew’s mother, it’s a little worse to imagine eating a meal across the table from the boy who mopped up my vomit and watched me strip my bra off and throw it across the room. I spent most of the afternoon freaking out about what to wear and dreading having to face Drew’s sister. The thought that Josh Bennett might be here never even entered my mind. I don’t have any more time to get used to the idea because the doorbell rings, then opens before anybody could possibly have gotten there. Josh isn’t company here. Of course he doesn’t wait to be let in.
Before I know what’s happening, Drew’s mother is coming towards me, taking the cake out of my hands. I want to hold onto it, keep it in front of me just a little longer but it’s not an option so I relinquish it to her. My hands feel very empty.
“You must be Nastya!” Her smile comes from every part of her face. There isn’t a question where Drew and Sarah came by their looks. Their mother is beautiful. I can’t help glancing down toward her stomach. She must not be very pregnant because I can’t even tell. I wonder how old she is. She has to be at least forty, I imagine. It’s weird to me why anyone would want another baby at that age but I guess if you can, why not? She’s shifting things in the refrigerator now to make room for the cake. I didn’t ask her to but I’m glad. The heat and humidity already started doing a number on the frosting on the way over here.
“Honey, it is so sweet of you to bring dessert. It’s beautiful,” she says, shutting the refrigerator door and turning towards me. She closes the gap between us a moment later and before I can comprehend what she’s doing, she hugs me. I don’t do hugging. I don’t like people touching me even when there’s no threat involved. It’s too intimate and it bothers me. She doesn’t seem to notice how stiff my arms are at my sides and she lets me go a second later when Drew starts talking.
“How come you call her honey and never use terms of endearment on me?” he fake whines.