Chapter 27
Silvie
“I’m just saying,” Birdie says calmly from the stool on the kitchen island as she sips her coffee, “that the instructions of three fifty are not a suggestion.”
I just almost set Cal’s kitchen on fire because I wanted to bake him a treat. This feels important to note because the smoke alarm is screaming, reminding me that I’m horrible in the kitchen and I should never be trusted in here ever again.
“I didn’t think it was a suggestion. I just forgot to set the timer, then got on a work call.” I cough as I use a tea towel to try to shoo the smoke out the window. It’s useless and not helping.
This is how I know I’m madly in love with Cal. I’m a woman who runs a billion-dollar company and can negotiate deals seasoned financial professionals wouldn’t fathom taking on. But put me in a kitchen and try to follow a simple recipe to bake brownies, and suddenly I’m close to arson.
Birdie’s eyes slide to mine over her cup. “Mmhmm.”
“What?” I ask
“It sounds like my baby is in love.” She smirks.
Even though this budding love between Cal and I feels like our little secret, I know my cheesy, lovestruck grin gives me away.
Luckily, the smoke alarm finally shuts up, interrupting her teasing. Whatever is left of the charred brownies is a stark reminder of my nonexistent kitchen skills.
“I was just trying to bake something,” I add.
“Sugar, I raised you. You have never baked anything in all of your life.”
Wilby knocks and opens the front door, poking his head in, looking concerned. “What in the fresh hell is this?”
“I’m baking,” I tell him.
He takes one look at the smoke, the oven, and me. “Who let you bake?” he asks slowly, looking confused.
“I can bake,” I snap. “Why is this so hard for everyone to understand? Can’t a wife bake something for her husband?”
He narrows his eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
“Stop.” I groan.
“No,” he says. “This is freaking me out.”
Birdie snorts, enjoying this.
Wilby steps closer, turning on the ceiling fan in Cal’s living room. “Have you been kidnapped?”
“Wilby,” I clip.
“Blink twice if you’re okay.”
I blink twice.
He gasps. “Oh my God. You should never be left alone in the kitchen. Everyone knows this.”
“I can try new things,” I insist.
Wilby puts his hand over his heart and slides onto the stool next to Birdie. “This is worse than I thought.”
I roll my eyes. “When did you get in anyway? I thought I was picking you up at the airport.”
Wilby shrugged. “Birdie got me. We had plans.”
“Plans?” I huff. “What plans?”
“Relax, you’ve been busy falling in love, baking brownies, and you’re practically on your honeymoon. I didn’t want to bother you.” Wilby shrugs.
Birdie stands and heads to the coffee pot, pouring herself more coffee and another cup. She sets the cups before Wilby and heads to the fridge for creamer. “Wilby is an unofficial Bee now. He’s joined the hive.”
I open my mouth to say something when Cal walks in, hair damp from surfing and smiling at me as he crosses the room and dips his head to kiss me softly.
“Still doesn’t look fake,” Wilby mutters.
“Oh, stop it. You know this stopped being fake a while ago. Cal and Silvie are in love.” Birdie smiles with approval as Cal holds me.
“What’s going on in here?” Cal asks, shaking his head at Birdie, not able to hide his grin.
“I tried to bake you a surprise,” I say.
He looks at the oven and back at me, and his smile softens. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“More like shouldn’t have done that,” Wilby mutters.
“I know,” I say. “But I wanted to.”
He leans down and kisses my temple like his kitchen isn’t a disaster, and I didn’t almost burn his house down. He looks like he couldn’t care less.
“It’s perfect,” he says.
“It’s charcoal,” I tell him.
“It’s the thought,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. “And it’s very nice.”
Wilby groans behind us. “Why do they have to be so adorable and sickeningly sweet?”
Birdie smiles like she just won something. “They’re perfect.”
Cal wraps an arm around my waist and smiles down at me like I hang the moon instead of committing crimes against baked goods.
And I realize, standing in a smoky kitchen with a ruined pan and a man who looks at me like I’m magic, that I would absolutely set the world on fire for him.
Preferably just not his house.
I knock on Carly’s door, holding two cups of coffee. Extra cream for Carly’s with cinnamon sprinkled on top because I remember that’s how she likes it.
“Come in!” I hear from inside.
“Carly?” I call as I let myself in.
No answer. I step fully inside, the door clicking behind me when I stop short.
Donna Bennet is stretched out on the couch, smiling at me. “Hello.”
She says this like she’s just a normal person, not a New York Times bestselling author I’ve been reading since I was twelve. She’s my favorite author of all time and seeing her here just casually sitting in Carly’s living room is like having my two different worlds collide.
She looks just like the photo on the back of all of her books and from the few interviews I’ve seen of her. She looks incredible.
She’s wearing sunglasses pushed into her hair, and a giant, brightly colored tote bag rests at her feet. A laptop is propped open on the table next to her. She has a coffee mug in her hand.
She looks at me and smiles. “Oh, good,” she says. “You’re here. Come in.”
I just stare, my jaw dropped. Because this is the very woman whose books I stole from my mom’s bedside table in high school and from friends’ mothers.
The woman whose name people talk about in any romance book conversations, the mother of all romance.
The Donna Bennett. In real life and on Carly’s couch in Coconut Beach.
“I’m sorry,” I say faintly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
She laughs. “That’s the response I usually get.” I walk forward slowly. “I’m sorry. Hi. I’m Silvie.”
“Hi,” she says warmly. “I figured that’s who you were.”
My heart does a little flip-flop. “I didn’t know you knew who I was.”
She waves a hand. “Of course I do. I had to come to Coconut Beach and see for myself the very woman who married my favorite nephew and brought my sister back to life.”
I glance down at myself. “This is unexpected.”
“So is hearing a billionaire heiress married my favorite nephew.”
I choke.
Before I can recover, she gestures toward the hallway. “Carly’s in the shower. She’ll be down soon.”
“Oh,” I say, pretending to be chill. “Great. I brought coffee for her. I would have brought you one...you know, you can have mine.”
“Not a chance,” Donna says. “I’m all set.”
I set the cups on the coffee table, nervous as Donna watches me with curiosity.
“She’s doing better, thanks to you,” she says. She studies me for a moment, and her eyes are kind.
I pause and glance over at her. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve helped,” she says. “I appreciate that.”
That hits me straight in the heart. Because when I fell in love with Cal, I didn’t expect to fall in love with his mom as well. She’s become like a mother to me that I never knew I craved, not having my own mother be there for me when I needed her.
“She’s laughing more,” Donna continues. “She has had visitors, and she talks about the world as if it’s not something she’s watching through a window. She’s participating in life, now.”
My chest tightens at her words. “Cal has...”
Donna shakes her head. “Cal isn’t behind this one. This one is all you, my dear.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.
“You have changed the temperature around here.”
I blink back tears.
Donna shifts, tucking a leg under her. “You have changed him, too.”
I laugh nervously. “I didn’t do anything.”
She gives me a look. “Sweetheart.”
Her words rattle around in my head. I think of Cal in the kitchen this morning, barefoot, making coffee for me like it’s already a ritual. Like he’s been doing it for years and most of all, I’ve come to appreciate and anticipate our routines.
Donna leans forward slightly. “You know this man loves you more than anything, right?”
Her question is casual, but it lands heavy with me. I still have no idea what to say. I’m still coming down from the high of realizing she’s actually in the room with me, much less praising me.
I scoff because it’s easier than being honest with her...and myself.
Donna tilts her head. “You’re adorable. You love him just as much. I can tell.”
I cross my arms and grin at her, not denying it.
“This summer, you’ve helped my family greatly. I hope you realize that, Silvie. You’ve made more progress with my sister than I’ve made in six years. I’ve offered the best therapists, support, and I’ve tried everything. But you? You bring them both back to life.”
That gives me pause.
“Cal has a hard time showing love and letting people in,” she continues. “He will rearrange his whole life to protect the people he loves.”
My throat tightens. I look toward the hallway again, suddenly aware of just how much Cal has given me without me knowing how big of a deal it is.
“And my sister,” she says softly. “She hasn’t let anyone in for a long time. And now she has a book club, gets makeovers, and speaks of you as if you are her new best friend.”
That makes me smile. “She is my new best friend. I adore her.”
The shower turns off down the hall, and Donna smiles, but there’s something else there, too. Something watchful.
“I don’t mean to intrude on anything...”
“You don’t,” Donna says. “That’s the point. Has Cal ever talked to you about his father?”
I still. “Not much.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs.
Carly steps into the room then, smiling, a towel still wrapped around her hair, wearing shorts and a T-shirt. The tense moment breaks. But something has definitely shifted between us.
And now I’m wondering deep down, what else does Cal have buried? And why do I feel like it’s starting to surface?
And I’m in too deep to step away.