“Buns are never too hot for frosting.” Emma moved to the next bun. “Read the message. The one from this morning.”
Lucy cleared her throat. “Dear Lucy.” She glanced up at her friends. “He used my name, not something clever or cute.”
“That’s why you baked the emergency buns?” Emma said.
“No.”
“Then keep reading,” Emma demanded. “Save the commentary until the end.”
“I need to reschedule our
beach date. I’m free the day after tomorrow,” Lucy began again. “Believe me when I tell you, this has nothing to do with handcuffs. I’m not hiding from you. You have my word. Something came up at work.” She walked around the kitchen island and sank onto a stool. “Then he signed it ‘Your workaholic suitor.’ ”
“You did the right thing.” Emma set a plate filled with a pair of cinnamon buns in front of her. “Making the buns.”
Nicole picked up her breakfast treat and waved it through the air. “I think we should start with the handcuffs.”
“He’s referencing a previous message,” Lucy mumbled. Then she bit into the relationship woes cure-all. The gooey frosting ran over her fingers, and she licked them clean.
“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” Emma said. “He was upfront about being a workaholic. Maybe something came up.”
“Or maybe I told him too much,” Lucy said.
“About your secret handcuff fantasies?” Nicole asked.
“About my ex, my trust issues, my hopes and dreams.” Lucy took another bite of the bun. “I probably should have kept the conversation light and playful until we had a chance to meet.”
“No.” Emma dropped her bun on her plate. “Why should you continue to waste your time? It’s hard enough weeding out the guys who pretend they’re serious, but only want a one-night stand. You shouldn’t have to tiptoe around what you’re looking for in a relationship. But, I don’t think that’s why he canceled. I think Mr. Ab Selfie has to work today. I don’t think it’s fair to write him off as a faceless, lying dude just yet.”
“I should wait and do that after I meet him for a first date,” Lucy said dryly.
“Yes.” Emma reached for the phone Lucy had abandoned in favor of the sugar rush. “I’ll send him a response for you—”
“No.” Lucy grabbed for her phone. “I’ll do it.”
Nicole stood and carried her empty plate to the sink. “I’ll swing by the store after I drop you at this morning’s consult and pick up another roll of emergency buns.”
“Please tell me that I can throw a three princess, deluxe party for thirty seven-year-old boys and girls and not break the bank.”
Lucy’s morning consult held the front door to her landmarked house. Delaney had bypassed a traditional greeting. But seeing as Lucy had known Delaney Mayor since grade school soccer at the community center, she wasn’t thrown off.
“You can,” Lucy confirmed, knowing the single mother and sole heir of her family’s real estate business had a pretty large bank account.
“Thank you!” Delaney threw her arms around Lucy encompassing them both in a Chanel perfume cloud. When Delaney released her, the scent lingered in the air. “Now come in and we can talk details. I picked up muffins from the new bakery by Publix after my run.”
“Sounds great.” Lucy followed her host through the old house that had been designed to look like an art deco boat. Delaney had renovated the property but kept the unique floor-to–ceiling, curved glass wall that gave the house its nautical feel. The pool stood directly beyond the glass providing the surreal illusion that the sitting area was floating on the water.
“We’re having the party at my parents’ house again this year. More room there,” Delaney explained as she set out plates, a coffee tray, and the bakery box. “I’m afraid this will be the last time Kia wants a princess party. I’m terrified that this will be the last year she believes. Don’t sleepover parties start around eight? I can’t remember what age the magic princess and fairy tales starts to fade.”
“I’m twenty-five and I still believe.” Lucy claimed a chair at the antique table and accepted a half-filled teacup of coffee.
“True.” Delaney sat opposite her and fixed her own cup, starting with the sugar. “But are you planning to invite all of your girlfriends to meet a trio of princesses for your twenty-sixth?”
“My brother takes me to the parks in Orlando every year.” Lucy reached into the bakery box and silently promised to run an extra mile tomorrow for the rolls she’d eaten this morning, and one for the sugar-topped blueberry scone in her hand. “It’s a tradition we started after our parents passed away. I think Finn wants to visit Harry Potter World again this year. He claims he goes for the Butter Beer.”
“Bless his heart,” Delaney said, resting her right hand on her chest. “How is your brother?”
“He’s good. Still single.”