Sweet Cheeks(94)
With that, I lick a piece of frosting off my fingers, look to the box of remaining cupcakes, and decide to leave it on the table so they can take a closer look and maybe even take a picture or two. Perhaps that’s why I make sure to strategically position the box so the pair of cupcakes I want to be seen are front and center for the camera lens: One cupcake says YES, it’s always been HIM and its match says NOT YOU, Golf Boy.
Yeah. Those cupcakes are keeping me warm, now. Asshole.
And with a smug smile on my face because I know Mitch will see it and understand my message, I turn my back to them without another word.
When I open the door to the bakery, I feel the best I have since I woke up in Hayes’s arms before the shit hit the fan.
And when I look up, Ryder is staring at me with wide eyes and a shocked smile, pride written all over his face. “That was brilliant, Say.”
I shrug. “If you can’t give them what they want, you might as well give them what you want.”
“Free publicity is never a bad thing.”
“Thanks, but I’ve had enough publicity for a lifetime the past few days.”
I move to the back, wash my hands, and feel a little more sure of myself now that I know facing the beast wasn’t as horrible as I thought. Of course I know the crowd outside is nothing compared to some of the other mob scenes I’ve seen surrounding Hayes when he leaves a club or a premiere or does anything, and yet it’s still better than expected.
Baby steps. One after another, right back to Hayes’s arms.
“For you.” Ryder’s voice startles me. I dry my hands on a towel and narrow my eyes at the package as he sets it down.
I carefully set down the box, but when I remove the top, it is empty.
All except for a red heart drawn on a piece of paper. The words written in the center bring tears to my eyes.
Sorry. I’m not giving this one back. Hayes.
Hey @SweetChks . . . Just giving you back all of the things I stole from you over the years . . . Whatever could I mean? #GrudgeCupcakes #10Days
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Kisses
Time
Your Heart
And if swooning were a real thing, a physical reaction, I’d be doing it right now. Because damn if something so simple doesn’t mean more to me than the expensive oven.
I read the post again, my heart bursting, and then when I look down at the thousands of comments that have been made on his posts to me today, I notice a shift. They started out being crappy. Negative about me. But by the last one, the comments started becoming more positive. A Get the girl, Hayes! Or If someone makes you this dedicated, you must love her.
I switch over to my phone to text Hayes, like I have after every gift has arrived, and type: You can keep it as long as I can keep yours. Thank you for my gifts.
FOUR DAYS LEFT
@HayesWhitOffcl
Get ready for my mad A-game @SweetChks. Do you have a Band-Aid? I scraped my knee falling for you. #10Days #GrudgeCupcake #Determined
I watch the video on TMZ of Saylor again. Of her walking out of Sweet Cheeks looking so composed and innocent with those brilliantly creative cupcakes, giving her little speech, and then smashing them in her hands. Shocking the hell out of the paps. The subtle dig to Mitch the Prick that will definitely be noticed. She comes off as playful, confident, and unaffected by the cameras being pointed at her. Like the unbelievably cruel things that have upended her world the last week don’t matter at all.
She played them perfectly. And when she turns to head back inside, the angle of the video affords me a glimpse of the Saylor Rodgers smug smile that says she’s figured this game out. Goddamn sassy, gorgeous, and without a doubt going to be mine.
God, I f*cking miss her.
We went ten years without speaking so why is my self-imposed moratorium of not talking to her for ten days killing me?
Because this time I know it matters. This time I’m not willing to walk away from her again or let her walk away from me. I’ve chased my dreams. Followed my passion. Been successful. But what does it mean if I don’t have her around at the end of every day?
To kiss hello.
To laugh with.
To dirty up a counter in flour with.
Scrubbing my hand through my hair, I review the agenda sent over for the interviews being held the day after tomorrow and check the list of things I need to do to pull off the surprises I’ve planned.
And then I hope like hell this has all been worth it. That not talking to her, not seeing her, not kissing her will only make her realize how damn lonely it is without me in her life.
Now back to researching cheesy pick-up lines to tweet.
If I’m making an ass out of myself, I damn well better be getting the girl in the end.
FOUR DAYS LEFT
@HayesWhitOffcl
You must be a banana @SweetChks because I find you a peeling. #10Days #GrudgeCupcake #Determined #MadA-Game
I laugh when I see his newest tweet. I can’t help it. I’m standing with my hip against the butcher block, my hand to my mouth, and a smile on my lips. He’s relentless. And adorable.
He has over one million followers, and he’s posting cheesy pick-up lines and doesn’t seem fazed in the least by what people are going to say about them. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe he wants me to know he doesn’t care and neither should I.