She gives me a very stern look. “Do you feel better?”
“My face hurts, but it did please me to get back at him for beating us.”
“Fine, but this all stems from the past, Wesley. And you gotta ask yourself, did it take away the pain of being molested?”
Well, no. But then, nothing has.
This is going to be a long session.
Chapter Five
Stella
I bite my lip as I stare at my iPad screen, tapping my Apple Pen to the side of it. My phone is open to my list of all my favorite flavors that I’ve made in the past. But at the bottom are my ideas for my Harry Potter cupcakes. Since everyone does the same flavor combinations, I, of course, am including the popular ones.
Butterbeer, duh.
A chocolate ganache cake to hide the colored candies for the Sorting Hat.
Cinnamon-cream cheesecake with a golden cinnamon-sugar frosting to look like a Snitch.
I’ve drawn how I want each one to be designed and decorated. My butterbeer will be classic and sophisticated. The rich golden color will make mouths water within seconds. For my Sorting Hat, I will make the hat from the books out of modeling chocolate, but I also want to add edible glitter colors of all the houses along the frosting. I think it’s gonna look incredible. My Snitch one will shine in the case, I know it, and I can’t wait to make the little wings out of chocolate. Audrey will help since I’m still learning chocolate work.
I want something else, though. I tap my pen a little hard while I look around my bed. I have all the Harry Potter books out, the set my mom bought me when I was born. Since Aiden was such a huge fan growing up, he demanded that all us kids are too.
I’m pretty sure when Emery refused to read the books when she turned eleven, Aiden demanded she be banned from the family. And Emery, being Emery, refused even more and made sure to tell Aiden it was all bullshit anyway. He pushed harder for her to be kicked out, and I think that was the moment I realized Aiden wasn’t the favorite anymore.
Emery was—shit, she still is.
I know for damn sure my mom and dad love Asher and me, but we’re easy. Aiden is all perfect and showboating, the ideal older son, and Emery is a walking basket case, full of endless knowledge of how to kill and/or torture someone. So really, Asher and I could only turn out easy. I love Asher. Sometimes more than I love Aiden, but it’s because Asher was around. He played with us, always had a smile for us. He included us when he was older and would much rather hang with us than other teenagers. Now, I know it was probably to get closer to his wife, Ally, but I tell myself it’s because I’m such a delight. Asher was the one who actually got Emery to read the books. They would read them together, every night for two months.
Too bad, honestly. Maybe if Aiden had gotten Emery out of the family, no one would know she was ours. You know, for when she commits murder. I really don’t want to be Emery “Black Widow” Brooks’s sister. Yes, she has her murder name picked out. Yes, I am terrified.
Not surprised, though. Not at all. The best part will be my mom on the news.
“We thought it was a phase!”
I snort to myself as I look over the books, begging for some inspiration. As my eyes fall on the Goblet of Fire, it comes to me. A Death Eater Cupcake. I almost squeal in delight as I start to draw it up. It’ll be Slytherin-inspired, with the dark-green frosting, but a badass Dark Mark will be made out of chocolate and sit proudly in the frosting. Flavor…hmm. I could go with pumpkin, but I want something with a little bit more wow, I think. Ooh…or minty. Like an Andes candy chocolate cake with mint frosting. I might add some Baileys in there to give it a kick. Oh! I should do a Firewhisky cupcake! Dragons! Ooooh!
I do a little dance as all the flavors and designs hit me like crazy. I’m so excited, I’m shaking. I reach for my phone, texting Audrey.
Me: I am so excited. All the ideas are coming.
I send her a picture of my screen with all the designs, and she writes back quickly.
Auntie: Yes, queen! Fireball and Baileys? Are you an alcoholic? I can get you help… JKLOL!
Me: Hahahahaha, right? But for real, you like them?
Auntie: I LOVE THEM!
I squeal some more before I open my Instagram to mark this moment. I take a selfie of myself, grinning from ear to ear. Don’t care that my hair is a mess, that I have no makeup on, and that I’m wearing my thick white glasses. Nope. I am stoked. I put the photo in my stories and then write a caption.