Chapter 27

The apartment is quiet after Lincoln leaves, in a way that makes me miss him. He left at Margot's bedtime, saying he didn't want to upset her routine, so she's asleep now too and I'm by myself. I only had a handful of videos to do, and I got them out of the way quickly, clearing out my job cache and not accepting any others.

Jack gave me ten thousand dollars.

It's still kind of stunning. I know he has that much money to spare and more. I know my daughter deserves his support. He helped create her, but he's skated by with no responsibility so far, acting like if he ignores that she's here he can also ignore his part in it.

With that money and my new job, which starts filming in a couple weeks, I don't need to worry about doing those videos. Jack's money opens up a lot of possibilities. I could secure a really good daycare for Margot. But does his money come with strings?

He is Margot's father. I don't think he deserves the right to see her, to spend time with her, or anything just based on that, but should I allow him to be part of her life? Will she resent me for keeping her father away if I don't?

I pull out my phone to do something about those questions, searching the internet for advice on what to do and coming up with a myriad of answers. The best involve communication, clear expectations, and boundaries. I don't think Jack would be good at any of that, but maybe I should give him a chance.

It's past midnight and I'm being irresponsible with my time, but I don't put my phone away like I should once I'm tired of looking up how to deal with my ex. If I'm going to be irresponsible, I figure I might as well do responsible things while living on the edge, so I pull up the Sweet Kisses bakery truck social media channels to check up on comments. We get a lot of likes and shares for the most part, but not many comments aside from "I tried the new peach cobbler cookies and they're amaaaaazing." AI has helped me come up with an assortment of thankful responses that I tweak and use to reply to those. There's been an uptick in comments since we put out the sign asking our customers to be on the lookout, many along the lines of "What's going on?" I've responded with the same vague answer that I gave the woman at the truck today.

After checking on both Facebook and TikTok, I head over to Instagram and switch the user right over to the Sweet Kisses account. Mine will be full of notifications over pictures of Lincoln and me, and if I go down that rabbit hole, I'll stay up all night. It does sound like a nice rabbit hole after dealing with Jack for the first time in months.

There's a new comment on a Sweet Kisses post from a couple days ago, a reply to one of our regular customers and commenters—CookieFan99, if you can believe it. She expressed her hope that Mila was able to figure out what was going on soon and that whoever was messing with her has a change of heart as soon as possible. Oh, bless your heart, CookieFan99. It's such a sweet reaction.

An account I don't recognize, FitBallerLA, posted a strange response. "Controversial opinion on this account, but maybe this will open some of the Regular Customers' eyes about the dangers of sugar to healthy lifestyles. There are people who should be more mindful and need reminders." A handful of customers have indignantly come to our defense, telling the troll to move on and that a bakery truck wasn't an account for him if he was into Healthy Lifestyles. The rampant capitalization of that has me laughing, considering it seems to be a strike against the response's weird capitalization of Regular Customers.

But the comment makes me pause. Could capitalizing that be purposeful, not just some weird grandpa choice like all caps to ASK HOW YOUR DAUGHTER'S THIRTIETH BIRTHDAY PARTY WENT?

Am I leaping to conclusions because it's late, or could a Regular Customer be someone high profile like Lincoln? As far as I know, he's the only famous customer we have. And he'd be someone that others might think needs to be more mindful—he's an elite athlete.

I would have noticed the commenter before if they'd commented about Healthy Lifestyles on our posts before this, but I skim through the posts for the last couple months just in case. FitBallerLA has never commented before this, which is strange. Why now? I tap over to their profile, ready to dig up if this person might be a viable suspect. What's a little sleep lost chasing a thin theory? We don't have anything else.

FitBallerLA's account is about a dozen pictures of a shirtless bearded guy doing various healthy things like weightlifting and hiking and posting pictures of gluten-free meals, and when I see his profile picture, it hits me who he is. It's the guy who came to the bakery truck complaining about not having healthy choices.

Could he be the one behind the poisonings? I've seen him twice now, but as I think back, I realize that the day he showed up in line, Lincoln's muffins turned out clean. So he couldn't have done something to them then. And the first time was before the first poisoning happened. Has he been around before and I haven't noticed him? I guess it's possible, but he stood out to me the other day, so I have to assume I'd notice him hanging around more.

I tap over to see who he follows and notice that it's filled with LA Rays players, including Lincoln. I've gone beyond thin theory and right into suspicious. Maybe not damning evidence, but something worth checking into more. When I go back to his profile, something catches my eye that I'd missed before. At the top is a list of accounts we have in common—well, one account we have in common.

Astrid.Manning

I blink. This could be a coincidence. My whole theory is based on coincidence. But all piled up together? This guy is concerned about sugar intake, he follows the entire Rays team, one particular member of the Rays team comes to a sugar dealer every day, and Astrid is maybe friends with him. Or just follows him?

Could she have something to do with this?

Astrid boxes orders for Lincoln on a regular basis. I can't remember for sure about the times Lincoln's friends have gotten sick, but it's a good bet. Dillon had shown Landon the arsenic crystals he found on the sugar cookie that Lincoln had retrieved from Mrs. Van Buren. They looked like they could have been decorative sugar crystals. Astrid was in the position to put stuff in only Lincoln's orders without messing with anyone else's.

Up until now, the theory was that someone was adding the arsenic sometime after Lincoln bought it. He'd never paid attention to anyone approaching him before—people asking for autographs is common enough, especially in the low-key environment surrounding the food truck—but it had seemed most likely. Until now.

Someone inside the food truck doing the sabotaging? It makes perfect sense. And I know for a fact it's not me or Mila. The bodyguard Eli hired has access to the truck, but he was hired after the first poisoning. I doubt we have a conspiracy on our hands here. Brock, the guy who delivers stuff from the farm, is in the truck on a regular basis too, but what motive would he have? Poisoning someone in Mila's truck would only hurt him and his parents' business.

The same can be said of Astrid though. She has no motive. She likes Lincoln. I think she might even have a crush on him, and she was horrified today when she thought someone might have tried to poison him again.

And still, FitBallerLA is the strongest suspect we have. His motive might be weird, a vigilante mission to stop a football player from consuming sugar, but it's a motive. I also can't shake that Astrid is somehow connected to him.

So what's going on?

Gettingto the bakery truck early the next morning so I can talk to Mila about what she thinks about Astrid being involved becomes a lost cause when I oversleep, which is not a surprise considering I didn't fall asleep until almost two a.m. I have to pair tennis shoes with my floral shorts and white top so that Margot and I can run to where the truck is parked several blocks away. I make it just as Astrid puts out our menu sign, only time enough to get Margot settled into her activity bouncer and to slide into my own seat.

"You have gossip to spill," Mila says from behind me. "Is that why you showed up late?"

I blush, wondering if Lincoln told Landon or Eli about coming to my apartment last night. It was nothing different from the friendly way we've been hanging out all along. I mean, I'm definitely feeling more than just friendly feelings for Lincoln, but no one needs to know that yet. Not until I've figured out if I should tell him. "Gossip?" The confusion isn't hard to fake.

She waves a spatula at me. "Little Jack Hor—" She cuts off saying the twist on the nursery rhyme nickname that was added to our collection of less-than-flattering terms we've come up with to refer to Jack by, and I notice a young mom with a toddler on her hip stepping up to Astrid's side of the truck to give her order. I gulp back a snort of laughter. "Well, him showing up at your apartment," Mila finishes.

The mom orders a couple muffins, but no one else steps up to order right away. "How did you know about that?" I shoot back at Mila.

Astrid's eyebrows rise as she moves back to her spot with a small box of the muffins. I can't help squinting at it, realizing that she got them without drawing my or Mila's attention at all. Hmmm.

"Pictures of Jack Williams at your apartment are everywhere this morning. Do you know him?" Astrid asks, handing over the box before settling back in her seat. The mom gives me a curious look but walks away.

Mila and I share a glance. Very few people know that America's Jerk is Margot's dad, and I'm not inclined to bring Astrid in on the secret, especially now that I have suspicions about her.

"He used to be our roommate last year, before Phantom Hex," Mila says casually.

Astrid's mouth drops. "What? Seriously?"

Mila and I answer in perfect unison. "He's a jerk."

This surprises Astrid even more. She shakes her head in disbelief. "I never would have thought. He seems so … friendly and good in the movie."

I refrain from rolling my eyes. You and the rest of America, honey. "I guess that's why they call us actors."

Mila shares another look with me, raising her own eyebrows, but I shake my head. If I want to keep it from Astrid who Margot's father is, I can't discuss why he was at my apartment last night.

Thankfully, customers start lining up and we're busy taking orders. I'm so intent on watching Astrid's every move—even though I know our culprit isn't poisoning anyone else—that I don't notice Lincoln in line until he steps up in front of me.

"Oh! Hey! Good morning," I say.

His smile is soft as he looks at me, and a zing runs up my spine. Maybe tonight I could let something happen between us, let all these little things go further than they have so far. Does he feel that way about me? We have chemistry, but he's never pushed it further either. Why not? I give my coworker the side-eye. She has a crush on him. Could he like her too? Does she know something I don't?

"Morning." He glances behind him, grimaces at the few people standing there, and then moves in a little closer. "I have bad news," he says.

Astrid pops up to get an order, and I can't help that my gaze follows her. I'm going to ask her to get Lincoln's for me today and watch her like a hawk. If only I could have told Mila about my suspicions. She could have done it way less obviously than I can, especially if Lincoln is trying to talk to me. I should have let him know too. Texted or called him this morning.

Ugh. I'm not a very good detective.

"Layla?" he asks, snapping my attention back to him. He eyes me, his expression concerned like last night, and my cheeks heat. When he gathered me up in his arms and hugged me, it was so easy to imagine how I could have looked up at him, tipped my head back, and waited for a kiss from him. How he might have trailed his lips along my jawline or backed me up against the door …

"I'm fine. It's fine," I say in a rush. It's hot in here today. Or maybe it's just me. "What's your bad news?" I hope it's nothing to do with the poisoning, because I want to talk to him about my theory about Astrid and FitBallerLA before he spills more information in front of her.

Lincoln glances over his shoulder again as Astrid calls over the person standing in line behind him. Usually this would be where he orders quickly and steps aside, but he just puts his hands in his pockets.

"I have to cancel tonight," he says apologetically.

I reel in the pouting lip that slipped out and try not to show too much of my disappointment. I was looking forward to our celebration. And the possibilities I was thinking about letting happen. "Oh, man," I say. "Margot was really looking forward to our party."

He chuckles a little. "I hate disappointing Margot. A friend of Dottie's—Mrs. Van Buren—" he reminds me. "—died this morning. I need to go over and spend some time with her."

"Ohhh." My disappointment is still there, but my insides melt like a pan of butter on the stove when Mila's making grilled cheese with homemade bread. She uses a lot of butter, and it feels like I'm ready to spill over with how much melted butter is inside me right now. "Poor Mrs. Van Buren." Then a thought strikes me, and my eyes widen. "It wasn't lasting effects of the sugar cookies or anything, was it?" I ask in a whisper. Old people are so much more susceptible to little things like that.

He shakes his head. "No, no. Nothing like that. Her friend had cancer, and Dottie knew it was the end."

"It's still hard," I say, but I'm also relieved that it had nothing to do with the cookies. Mila would never forgive herself, even if none of this is her fault.

"Rain check on our celebration?" he asks, grimacing as another customer behind him steps up to Astrid. She shoots us—maybe just me?—a glare, but I don't care. She might be poisoning Lincoln. Now she's going to act all jealous that he's talking with me?

"Absolutely," I assure him.

"I'd better order before people here riot," he says.

I want to ask him if Dillon knows anything about the German pancakes from yesterday, but he's right that people are getting impatient that he's been standing here so long without ordering. "What will it be?" I ask. Astrid stands to get one of her orders, so this will be perfect timing for me to ask her to grab Lincoln's.

"Let's go with the raspberry lemon scones today. Four of them."

"Wish you could take them to Mrs. Van Buren," I say in a low voice.

He sighs. "Me too."

I turn in my chair as Lincoln steps aside, but the customer who rushes to my window is going to be disappointed at me taking my time before I get to them.

"Astrid, can you grab four scones for Lincoln?" I ask, half turning toward her.

"Of course." She sets aside the box she's working on and grabs another one. She puts it down on the counter, flap up and away from me so that I can't see what she's doing as she loads the scones in. Well. That didn't work out like I wanted, but is that also suspicious? I'll tell Mila about it after work, and she can keep an eye on her tomorrow.

I swivel back in my seat to take the order of the next customer, who rattles it off quickly and in a clipped tone. Oops. I throw in an extra cookie when I grab his order as Astrid is handing over Lincoln's box of scones.

"Oh, Lincoln!" she says in a bright voice just as I'm getting back to my seat to hand over my customer's order. "I just found out last night that I got a part in City Mates." She bounces and claps her hands.

I pinch my lips. I will not be jealous of her crush. I plop back down in my seat. But why didn't she tell me and Mila? Even if it's a small part, this is big news. City Mates is a pretty popular comedy sitcom. She saved this news just for Lincoln.

"That's awesome," he says, grinning at her in congratulations, and my heart stutters. He'd do the same for me. Even though I haven't been able to tell anyone but my closest friends about my new part on LA Hope, he was over the moon for me when he found out.

So does this mean I'm also just his friend? Or is there something more going on between him and Astrid that I just don't know about? He could be texting her or calling her or … they could have gone out and I might not know. Would he tell me if he went out with someone else? Why would he? I'm not his mother … or his girlfriend, sigh. There's no reason he'd share that with me unless he wanted advice or something. I shudder inwardly to think of him asking me for dating advice. Please no.

Astrid beams back at him. Could she be poisoning him? The fact that she's fallen for him is obvious. Maybe the fact that she follows FitBallerLA is a coincidence. I don't have anything more than that, to be honest. Why would she hurt someone she wanted to date?

Maybe she's one of those people who gets their loved ones sick so they can take care of them. I study her a moment as she tells Lincoln about the show while taking her next order. I could see it.

I've gotta warn Lincoln. He's standing calmly between the two lines, smiling at Astrid and in no hurry to leave like he usually is.

"And I got you tickets to come watch," she says, pink rising in her cheeks. She turns to me. "All of you, actually. Mila, you can invite Landon too if you want."

"Astrid, that's so cool," Mila says.

"I definitely want to come watch," Lincoln agrees with a vigorous nod. He turns to me, expectant.

"Of course! I wouldn't miss it, Astrid. Congratulations!" Hopefully she doesn't see how forced this is. Hopefully she's not in jail for her big break. I might be forcing that hope as well.

"It will be next Tuesday, which I know is your day off, so that will work great, won't it?" Astrid's attention is back on Lincoln.

"Perfect!" he agrees. "I gotta go. See you all later." He smiles at me, then at Astrid again, and gives a little wave for Mila before walking off.

I take the order for the next person in line, but my mind is anywhere but on sugary treats. I haven't dated in a long time, so I'm reading too much into everything. Lincoln is probably just friends with Astrid.

But does that also mean he's only interested in being just friends with me?