With shaky fingers, I peel apart the wrapping paper to reveal a professional mixer. I recognize the brand as one that belonged in mynever going to happen but might as well torture myself with looking at itlist.
My eyes fill with tears. It’s not about the mixer itself, but the meaning behind it that turns me inside out.
I reread the card again, and the butterflies in my stomach rage and riot even harder the second time. The feeling has nothing to do with the urge to bake until two a.m. tonight and everything to do with the man who gave me the rush in the first place.
Before I chicken out, I pull out my phone and shoot Cal a text.
Thank you for the mixer.
Thank me by making my favorite.
Deal.
I go to bed with the stupidest smile on my face that night, feeling better than I have in weeks.
Iwake up the next morning excited and ready to meet with the contractor. Now that things with Cal seem to be settled, I feel more ready to work with him on the house.
I breeze through the morning routine with enough energy to rival Cami. Her enthusiasm about starting summer camp rubs off on me, and we spend the entire car ride blasting her favorite song from the latest Dreamland princess movie.
I gave up on my battle against the Kanes and their fairytale empire ages ago. It was a pointless fight, especially when all of Cami’s friends are obsessed with Dreamland and their princess movies. Even I have to admit the films are pretty cute, although Cami and I both agree it would be nice for them to have a movie about someone from Colombia. Bonus points if they’re from Barranquilla like my family.
By the time I arrive back at the house, my mood can’t get any better.
“What has you smiling like that?” Cal peeks into the kitchen.
I drop the pan I was cleaning back into the sudsy water and shut off the music streaming from the portable speaker on the counter. “It’s the first day of summer.”
“Congratulations. What do you plan on doing first?”
I motion toward the dishes. “I need to finish this up before the contractor gets here.”
He begins to roll up the sleeves of his linen shirt, revealing his thick forearms. “How about I dry while you wash?”
I look up from his arms. “Why?”
“Because I finished up the attic, and I don’t have anything else to do before the contractor gets here.”
“You finished that attic already?”
“Yup.” He grabs a towel hanging on the oven and throws it over his shoulder before turning toward me.
I can’t help smiling at him. “Domesticity looks good on you.”
His lips twitch. “Maybe Iris was on to something.”
My spine stiffens.Who the hell is Iris?
I’ve never heard that name come out of his mouth before, but he obviously cares a lot about her based on the way his eyes light up at the mere mention of her name.
I grab the Brillo pad and get to scrubbing the leftover eggs off the pan. Cal stands beside me, drying the pot I had washed a minute ago. The scrape of the scouring pad against metal makes my ears ache.
He nudges me with his elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Iris says the same thing when she’s mad.” His voice sounds lighter, and I look up to find his eyes sparkling.
What a dick.