Love on Lexington Avenue(4)

Translation: Why are you calling instead of texting like usual?

Claire took a deep breath. “I bought a cupcake today. Guess what flavor it is?”

“Oh, it’s a cupcake emergency,” Audrey said with such understanding that Claire knew she’d called the right person. Naomi would have rolled with the direction of the conversation, too, but Claire knew that Naomi’s nights were spent cuddled up with her sexy boyfriend, and cupcake phone calls might be slightly less welcome.

“Hmm, okay, you bought it for yourself?” Audrey was musing. “Then it’s definitely vanilla.”

Claire’s heart sank. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a vanilla cupcake.”

“I’m confused,” Audrey said slowly. “I feel like I both passed and failed a quiz at the same time.”

“No, it’s not you,” Claire said rubbing her forehead. “Out of curiosity, what is the zaniest cupcake flavor you can think of?”

“Well . . . Magnolia has this absolutely decadent flourless chocolate cupcake that’s—”

“Not chocolate,” Claire interrupted. “I mean, it can have chocolate in it. But I don’t want the standard flavors. I’m talking about a cupcake that breaks all the rules.”

“Do cupcakes even have rules? Are you at a bakery having a decision crisis, or is something else going on here?”

Something else.

Though she didn’t blame her friend for the confusion. Claire wasn’t the type of person to call at nine at night with a dessert-related emergency.

For that matter, Claire wasn’t the type to have any emergency. She was a problem solver. She was the one other people called when they needed help, advice, or just a listening ear. The friend who could tell you how to get red wine out of silk or who would gently but firmly tell you that no, a bob wouldn’t really suit your face shape.

In her marriage, she’d been the rock, the one who’d made Brayden a drink at the end of the day and then patiently listened as he unloaded about his brainless coworkers, his small-minded boss, the barista who’d gotten his order wrong.

The roles had rarely reversed, and Claire had never minded—or even noticed, really. Not until Brayden had died. Not until, on the heels of that death, Claire had learned that the stable foundation upon which she’d built her entire life hadn’t been nearly as steady as she’d imagined.

Because Brayden hadn’t just died. He’d left the world naked and drunk and falling off a boat while a twenty-year-old college student waited for him on the dock so they could do exactly what it was that cheating men and carefree twenty-something girls did together.

His autopsy had revealed that he’d hit his head and was unconscious when he went into the water, unaware that he was drowning. Unaware that his quietly dedicated wife once again would be tasked with cleaning up the mess and picking up the pieces.

And she had. She’d gone through all the stages of grief. She’d shed her tears, vented her anger, talked through her confusion.

She’d put her life back together, damn it.

So why did she feel so flat?

“Claire?” Audrey said tentatively.

Claire’s attention snapped back to her friend. “It’s my birthday today.”

“What?” Audrey’s voice was borderline outraged. “How could you not—”

“I wanted to celebrate alone,” Claire said quickly. At least she’d thought she had. “It’s just that . . . well, I was sitting here, feeling a little sorry for myself, and thinking about how eight new wrinkles popped up last night. And I was looking down at this little plain vanilla cupcake. And the thing is, Audrey, I picked that flavor. I went to the bakery with the intention of buying myself a birthday treat, and out of all the options, that’s what I selected. I think it’s the only one I saw. And now, I don’t know. I’m just wondering . . . am I boring, Audrey?”

Am I boring, and is that why Brayden went to find someone not boring? Someone like you?

She didn’t say it out loud, but she suspected Audrey heard the unspoken words, because her friend was quiet for a long time.

“Strawberry lemonade,” Audrey said.

“What?”

“Molly’s Cupcakes on Bleeker. They’ve got a bunch of fun flavors, but I was there last week, and strawberry lemonade is one of their summer features. It’s not wild. It’s a traditional flavor pairing, but it’s unexpected for cupcakes and it totally works. It’s sweet and tart and it sticks with you. It’s memorable.”

“Strawberry lemonade,” Claire said thoughtfully. “I like strawberries. And lemonade.”

“See! You’re not boring! You’re strawberry lemonade! Do you want to head down there right now? I can come over, we’ll grab a cab . . .”

Claire laughed. “I love the enthusiasm, but I think my days of going down to the Village on a Tuesday night are behind me. Especially considering I have a contractor coming by at seven tomorrow morning to give me a quote for the renovation.”

Audrey let out a tiny sigh of resignation. “Yeah, okay. This weekend maybe?”

Ordinarily, Claire would have nodded in agreement, relieved that her friend didn’t push. But hearing the complete lack of surprise in Audrey’s voice at Claire’s refusal affirmed Claire’s worst fears.