Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(72)

Which was awesome.

SO. GREAT.

Because, no, Lizzie didn’t walk around constantly hoping Rake would touch her. And no, she didn’t stay up all hours of the night wondering what he would do if she made a move.

None of that on her end! Nope! They couldn’t be more platonic.

And if Lizzie was maybe feeling a little bit of pining/horniness, she channeled all that energy into her baking. Bernadette’s online sales of erotic pastries were booming, and they’d recently introduced some of the tamer pieces to the pastry display case. What neither Bernadette nor Lizzie expected was for a local reporter to catch wind of their shop filled with tuile tacos filled suggestively with fruit and butt-shaped cookies with intricate frosting lingerie and run a story on them that spread like wildfire on Twitter. The resulting daily lines to get into the shop sucked up most of Lizzie’s focus, and she thrived on the success of their creations.

She was also gaining momentum in her work to manage her ADHD. Lizzie was learning that making to-do lists into cartoons and pictures made her brain hum with excitement to get started, and she was successfully keeping a notebook and crossing things off her list. She’d also found a surprising type of fun in timing herself on tasks and learning her patterns, creating a routine that accommodated her habits instead of forcing her to do things the “right” way.

And Bernadette, quirky angel of graciousness that she was, encouraged Lizzie through it all, working with her to find a flow for the shop that allowed them both to thrive.

The progress wasn’t linear and the process was far from easy, but it felt undeniably good to learn herself. Nurture her brain instead of rewire it.

Lizzie’s phone rang as she walked to her apartment from the subway stop, Mary’s name lighting up the screen.

“Hi, Mary,” Lizzie said as she picked up the call.

“Lizzie! How are you?” Mary had a voice like Snow White, and Lizzie had, more than once, hinted that she should narrate children’s audiobooks.

“Hanging in there. How about you?”

“Good, good. Just finalizing some stuff for the big bash,” Mary said, referring to the anniversary party for Lizzie’s parents that was two days away. “Wanted to check in on the cake and make sure you didn’t need anything from me.”

“Nope, all good,” Lizzie said, stopping in front of her building and leaning against the rough stone to finish the call. “I finished building it today and I’ll put the final decorations on it tomorrow before I drive up.”

Mary had requested a minimalistic three-layer cake, and Lizzie was going with the popular semi-naked frosting look with sprigs of flowers and clusters of fresh fruit. She was also desperately nervous that her mom would absolutely fucking hate it.

“Are you bringing anyone to the party?” Mary asked, catching Lizzie completely off guard.

“I, uh, I hadn’t thought about it. Am I allowed?”

Mary giggled. “Of course you’re allowed, Lizzie. I’ll put you down with a plus-one.”

“I—well—I—”

“Sorry, Lizzie, I have to run. Call me or Ry if you have any issues. We’ll see you tomorrow at your parents’ for dinner, right?”

“Uhh.”

“Great! See you then.” Mary hung up the call.

Lizzie pressed the back of her head against the building, staring up at the sky. Fuckkkkkkk.

Should she bring Rake? On one hand, he was so put together and competent and beautiful that he might distract from the inevitable evaluation of Lizzie’s shortcomings from her mother. But on the other hand, did she really want to subject him to the passive-aggressive contempt that Claire Blake had spent a lifetime gorgeously perfecting?

She decided she’d paint Rake a very realistic portrait of what the weekend had in store and let him decide.

Rake’s laugh greeted Lizzie as she walked through the door. Padding into the apartment, she found him on the couch with his laptop, smiling at the screen. He turned that smile on her, and her body ached with how adorable he was.

In a totally platonic way, of course.

“Hold on just a second, Mum,” Rake said, looking back at the screen. He clicked a few times then turned again to Lizzie. “I’m video chatting with my parents if you’d like to meet them. No pressure,” he said.

Lizzie broke out in a cold sweat. She’d never met a guy’s parents before. She knew as an inherent fact that she was not the kind of girl a mom would be happy to see her son with.

“Won’t they hear me say no?” Lizzie whispered, shooting a nervous glance at the laptop.

“I muted it,” Rake said, giving her a bemused look. “But I think you’ll really like them.”

Lizzie didn’t doubt that for a second. It was a rarity for her to meet someone she didn’t instantly find something to like, and anyone who’d had a hand in making Rake was undoubtedly a perfect sunbeam of a person.

Rake was studying Lizzie closely, as if he were seeing her inner turmoil like words written across her skin. “And I have no doubt they’ll adore you,” he said, scooting over on the couch and patting the seat.

Lizzie looked at him for a moment then gathered some courage, moving to sit next to him. “Do they know about le bébé?” Lizzie asked, halting his hand from unmuting them.

“Of course,” Rake said. “Mum texts me almost daily to ask how you’re doing. She’s been dying to meet you, I think.”