Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(74)

“She did.”

“I, er, I think it’s going to be really nice! Mary picked a very tasteful design. I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh, wonderful. I’m sure it will be lovely,” Claire said, not sounding sure at all. “Even though your father doesn’t indulge in sweets…”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot. Well … I don’t know. Hopefully you like it. Or Mary at least.” Lizzie rested her palms flat on the back of the couch, lowering her head to bang it softly against her hands a few times. Claire remained silent.

“I’ve … There’s a new person in my life,” Lizzie blurted out. She still hadn’t decided on what label to use for Rake. Baby daddy was the most accurate, but she might send her mom into a tailspin with that phrasing.

Her mom hummed again, the noise sounding like grating steel and disapproval.

“I’d like to bring him. To the anniversary party, I mean.” Lizzie glanced over at Rake, and he nodded, a soft smile on his lips.

“Is that so? It’s only supposed to be for family and our close friends.”

“Well … uh … he’s like family to me,” Lizzie said honestly. “I’d like for you to get to know him.” Maybe when you see the gorgeous, wonderfully starchy father of my future child who keeps his hair well trimmed and carefully folds his underwear, you won’t judge me as harshly.

The silence lingered, making Lizzie squirm.

“Well, we’d be happy to host him,” her mother said at last, sounding resigned.

“Yeah?” A wary voice in Lizzie’s head told her not to get excited, not to even go to the damn thing. But she couldn’t extinguish the small starburst of happiness in her chest. Just like that, she was a girl again, desperate for a bond with her mom.

“We’ll see you tomorrow. Please dress appropriately.”

“So is that a yes or a no to titty tassels?” Lizzie asked, snickering.

Claire let out a sigh. “Goodbye, Elizabeth.” She hung up.





Chapter 37



Week nineteen, baby is the size of a flying squirrel. Lizzie is convinced that’s what she’s actually carrying based on how much the little one moves around in there.

The next afternoon, Rake and Lizzie drove away from Philadelphia, traveling north toward the Pocono Mountains in an SUV they’d borrowed from Indira. Rake was typing away on his phone; Dominic had immediately rejected his request for a half day but had made the ever-so-generous concession that he could work remotely for the afternoon. Rubbing the heels of his hands against his tired eyes, he sighed, setting his phone down and giving himself a short break.

He looked over at Lizzie, who’d been disorientingly silent for most of the trip. Rake was learning that she had two modes: endless talking or complete silence. She was either exquisitely present or completely gone. He could see her chewing on the inside of her cheek, somewhere far away in her thoughts. He wanted to know every single one, understand the gears and wires that made up such a unique person. He could tell by the furrow of her brow and the tension in her jaw that something was bothering her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, tugging gently on a lock of her hair. She snapped back into her body, blinking like she wasn’t sure how she got there.

“Mirrors,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as she changed lanes.

Rake blinked. “What?”

“I guess reflections more,” she continued, keeping her eyes on the road. “Like how the hell can I look in a window, see a partial reflection, and then make eye contact with someone next to me in that weird half reflection? It’s a see-through material, and yet I can make eye contact on its surface? Isn’t that weird?”

“Weird indeed,” Rake said with a soft laugh. “What else is on your mind?” Rake could tell window reflections weren’t the only thing consuming her thoughts.

“I’m worried about the cake,” Lizzie answered, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror for the thousandth time. “I’ll be so fucked if something happens to it.” Lizzie had spent over an hour packing and securing the cake in the trunk.

“I’ve no doubt you could fix it even if something did happen, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Lizzie chewed on her lip, shooting him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

“Why did you become a baker?” he asked.

Lizzie shrugged. “Just your run-of-the-mill get-rich-quick scheme every girl plans out.”

Rake laughed. “No, seriously.”

She shrugged again. “There’s nothing else I was really good at. I don’t have a degree, and I blew through all my money traveling. When I came home and tricked Indira into letting me crash at her place, I made enough batches of pity cookies I decided to make it a job.” She laughed, but Rake remained silent. She glanced at him.

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Pretend like you don’t do great things. Wave off your accomplishments. Why?”

A loud burst of uncomfortable laughter ripped from her throat, making him flinch.

“I’m not … I don’t … If I can do it, literally anyone can.”