Chapter 8

eight

Sutton, The One and Only – 9:17 AM

Everything all right over there? Haven't heard from you in a while… which is highly suspicious

Regan stared down at her phone, debating how to answer.

It didn't come as a shock to her that Sutton was questioning her silence in the last week. After all, Regan was typically in contact with her best friend every day, in some form or other.

But after the debacle with Emma, she'd felt strangely reluctant to talk to Sutton, even about topics unrelated to Emma. This situation, which had only been compounded by her conversation with Charlotte, put a spotlight on how much Regan truly depended on Sutton. How much she'd always relied on her best friend to be her anchor.

And Sutton's current absence highlighted the reality that Sutton couldn't always be there to make everything feel normal and okay. Even when she returned from Rome – which wouldn't happen for almost half a year – she was now in a relationship. Like, a serious relationship. One that Regan sensed would only continue to get more serious as time passed.

While Regan knew she would always fill a role in Sutton's life, the position she'd held for nearly twenty years as Sutton's Most Important Person was a title that Charlotte had snuck in and claimed for herself in the last year.

So –

Regan – 9:19 AM

Everything's hunky dory on my side of the Atlantic

Sutton, The One and Only – 9:19 AM

You sure? It took you a while to answer my message

Regan – 9:19 AM

It was 2 minutes………..

Sutton, The One and Only – 9:20 AM

And 2 minutes for you to answer a text you'd read right away is a long time…

Damn Sutton and how well she knew Regan!

Also, damn this feeling in her gut that she had whenever she felt like she was being dishonest with Sutton. But what she'd said to Charlotte the other day was the truth.

For once in her life, Regan needed to stand on her own two feet.

Besides, she wasn't lying to Sutton. Not really.

Everything was – tentatively – hunky dory between her and Emma.

Today would be the true qualifier of that, and –

"Are we baking cupcakes together for our hang out?" Emma's voice came from over Regan's shoulder.

"Oh my god! " Regan jumped in surprise, fumbling with her phone before it fell from her grasp.

She and Emma watched as it clattered face-down onto the floor.

Regan's heart was still racing in her chest as Emma quickly bent to retrieve her phone. She examined the screen as she handed it over to Regan, her pouty lips pulled into a considering frown. "It looks like it's all in one piece still. Sorry, though; I didn't think I'd scare you."

Regan gratefully took her phone back, giving it a cursory glance as she placed it on the counter behind her. "Yeah, I mean, I don't know why you might possibly scare the shit out of someone when you come creeping up behind them like a ninja."

Emma huffed out a laugh, crossing her arms over her chest in a move that made her breasts seem like they were about to pop out of the thin tank top that she'd slept in. Regan's eyes lingered for a few seconds.

"If I were the only one to make that statement, I'd believe it was sarcasm in a not-so-nice way. But since it was you, I'm assuming you're being humorous," Emma mused slowly, studying Regan's face.

Regan lifted her gaze to meet Emma's, an easy smile sliding over her face. "You assume correctly."

Emma's eyebrows furrowed, before she shook her head. "You know, a part of me was really hoping that I could poke even a small hole in your theory that my attitude is the reason our relationship has never…"

"Blossomed," Regan supplied, leaning back against the counter as she angled her head up at Emma. She was undeniably curious as to where Emma was going with this.

Emma grimaced. "I mean, that makes it sound like we're pre-pubescent, but – yes." She shrugged. "But the truth is that if you snuck up on me like this and made me drop my phone, I'd have flipped out. So. I guess that's a big point in the Regan Gallagher column."

Regan felt her smile grow even wider at Emma's admission, entirely too pleased with it. Even more so because Emma didn't even sound like she was begrudging the truth. She sounded almost… amazed by it.

"It's a good outlook," Emma murmured, studying Regan's face carefully. Like she was really trying to see her. Maybe even for the first time.

Regan's first instinct was to preen into the compliment, to ham it up, but she faltered. Instead, her cheeks felt a little warm at the observation, and she shrugged. "It's really not that big of a deal."

"It's nice," Emma countered firmly.

"You really are stubborn."

"And the sky is blue."

The laugh that escaped Regan was swift, and she rolled into it, especially when Emma cracked a small, genuine smile back at her.

After another few seconds, Emma lifted a questioning eyebrow. "So – cupcakes?" She nodded at the ingredients, mixing bowls, and pans Regan had neatly laid out on the counter before Sutton's text had distracted her.

"Uh, well. I didn't plan for us to bake together, no." She hedged, clearing her throat as she rocked from one foot to the other as if she could hide the slew of ingredients behind her back.

"An interesting choice, then," Emma drawled.

"I didn't think you were going to be awake so early," Regan countered truthfully.

In fairness, Emma was still in her pajamas. A gray threadbare tank top with a pair of tiny black shorts – honestly, Regan knew they were pajamas because there was no way Emma would dare brave the New York City streets in shorts that barely covered her ass; she'd detest the attention it would garner her. Her silky hair was still piled on top of her head the way Regan had noticed Emma often did before she slept – if she hadn't fallen asleep while working, that was.

"You told me when we went our separate ways last night that you were opting for our hangout day today," Emma deadpanned. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I assumed you'd intended for it to be an all-day affair."

"I'm intending for us to use this as a bridge into a true friendship, actually, and that means accepting you as you are. Which for you – I've gleaned through my amazing powers of deduction – means sleeping as late as humanly possible on days you don't have work." She offered Emma a proud, hopeful grin. "I was thinking I'd bake these myself, and by the time they were done, you'd be waking up."

That thoughtful, studious expression returned to Emma's face again. As soon as Regan felt her stomach tingle with it, she pressed her hand there. Strange.

"Uh," she valiantly pushed through the feeling. "Yeah, so… you know. If you want to go back to bed for a while, you totally can."

She believed so wholly that Emma would take her up on that offer that it legitimately shocked her when Emma shook her head. "No, it's fine. I mean, I offered you the whole day, and even though I may be stubborn and have a penchant to believe the glass is half empty, I'm a woman of my word. Besides, I'm already up. Getting out of bed means I won the battle."

A surprised, nervous titter escaped Regan's lips. "Okay, then. We can… bake… together…" She slid her gaze toward the counter, trying to figure out how to sort through her unexpected anxiety.

Apparently, Emma noticed. "I honestly assumed you'd be thrilled by the offer. You may soon come to see that my company isn't everything you've been dreaming about, but baking together feels like exactly the sort of thing you've suggested we do for weeks now." There was a raw curiosity reflected in her gaze that Regan hadn't ever had directed at her before.

And of course , it was regarding this. The one thing in the world that Regan did by and for herself.

"Ha, yeah." Regan dragged a hand through her hair and looked between the ingredients neatly arranged on the counter and Emma, before admitting, "Only, not really?"

Emma's dubious stare silently asked what the hell she was talking about.

Regan clasped her hands together behind her back, feeling uncharacteristically sheepish. "I don't bake with other people," she informed Emma, feeling a little silly.

More than a little silly, actually.

Those blue eyes blinked back at her as if unable to process what she was saying. Which was reflected by Emma's skeptical expression. "I've heard you banging around in here tons of times. And I've seen you bring containers of baked goods out of here."

"Exactly; I bake when you're asleep, and yeah, I love when people try my finished products," she tried to explain. "I mean – I don't know. It's stupid, but… baking has always just been for me. The process of it. It's stupid," she repeated, shaking her head at herself.

Because it did sound stupid when she said it aloud. After all, she did love it when people ate the food she made; she enjoyed sharing it. But the idea of sharing the process felt… nerve-wracking.

Emma's eyebrows furrowed together, critically. "I don't think it's stupid."

Regan's fingers tightened where she had them clasped together. "You don't?"

"I mean, we all have the things we like to do just for ourselves. And if anyone understands the desire for privacy, it's me." Emma flashed a sharp grin. "If you want to do this by yourself, that's fine–"

"Wait." Regan jumped forward as Emma started to take a step back, reaching out to grab at her wrist. "Stop. Let's do it together."

Even though it made her nervous, she pushed through it. Because – really, why did it make her nervous? She could pull herself together for this. For this bonding activity that Emma was finally willing to give her.

Letting Emma walk away from this opportunity felt like a complete and total waste. She'd wanted Emma to spend time with her for over a month, and now that Emma seemed to be genuinely willing to give her a chance, she wasn't going to pass it up. She wasn't an idiot.

With that, she nodded, willing herself to get over that weird hiccup of hesitation. "It's fine. It's cool. It's going to be fun."

Emma's eyebrows lifted higher on her forehead with every word she spoke, revealing her doubt. "Are you trying to convince yourself or me?"

Regan considered it for a second before she shrugged. "Both?"

"You know we can still hang out today even without the cupcakes. I understand boundaries, and if this is one for you–"

Shaking her head, Regan vehemently dismissed the idea. "No, it's fine." If Emma was willing to challenge her perceptions, Regan could, too. She wasn't in the business of being a hypocrite in any way. "It's actually a good thing, probably. Personal growth and all that."

Emma rolled her eyes but was smiling as she did so. "Riiight."

It was a good thing, Regan reaffirmed to herself, remembering she was still holding onto Emma's wrist. She gently released her. "So, how much do you know about baking?"

"I don't," Emma answered promptly.

"Now is not the time to be glib, Emma. I need to know how in-depth you're going to need my instructions to be while we work."

"Being glib isn't really my thing." Which, fair point. "I'm telling you that I've never done any baking unless you count buying pre-made cookie dough and popping it into the oven."

Horrified, Regan shuddered. "That is a tragedy. If I needed an extra push to get me to a place where I was ready to bake with someone – which I didn't… mostly – there it is. Let's get to it."

She reached out to where she hung her aprons, flinging one in Emma's direction, before grabbing one for herself. And when the thought struck her, she gleefully spun around as she pulled the apron over her head. "You know what this means? You have to listen to, like, everything I say! What a way to start our bonding time."

Emma nailed her with a look as she tugged her own apron over her head. "There's still time for me to go back to bed."

But she was tying the apron behind her back as she spoke, so Regan laughed.

Okay… maybe this could be fun.

By the time the cupcakes were in the oven, Regan's anxiety around baking with someone else had entirely dissipated.

It was made easy, really, because Emma's genuine naivety throughout the entire process was so damn entertaining. Once they'd really gotten into it, Regan had been so caught up in their conversation to be concerned about feeling self-conscious.

"Here, use this for the dry ingredients," she'd instructed, handing Emma the sifter as Regan moved to pre-heat the oven.

Emma had dubiously looked down at it. "What… is this?" She flexed her hand on the handle, rotating the sifters.

Regan gasped, whirling around to face her again. "Emma – wait, what's your middle name?"

"Not necessary information," Emma clipped, turning back to the counter to grab her coffee.

"We will work on that." She held herself back from pressing the matter – this was a beginner day for them. Regan didn't want to test the limits too much on day one! "Emma Bordeaux," she started again, " That is a sifter. You have to spoon the dry ingredients into the measuring cups, then you sift them into the bowl."

Emma arched a doubtful look at her. "Now I know you're messing with me. That's why we have the measuring cups; you scoop them and dump them in the bowl. I know how that works."

A baffled laugh escaped Regan as she held up her hands. "Why would I be messing with you? That's not how this works! Scout's honor." She sidled up to Emma, pressing against her side, gesturing at the ingredients. "You don't want them to be… heavy," she decided on the word. "If you just scoop, it won't be accurate. We're going for light and fluffy, here, not thick and dense."

Even though Emma still clearly thought Regan was fucking with her, she reached for the spoon. "I guess – for today – you're in charge."

Regan bumped her hip against Emma's. "You're damn right!"

Emma shot her a look, and everything in Regan went on high alert… before Emma shook her head and bumped Regan's hip right back.

The most exciting moment had been when she'd heard Emma, surprise in her tone, say, "You know, this actually looks pretty good."

Regan turned from where she'd been checking on the cupcakes in the oven… only to solidly bump right into Emma.

Eyes widening, she'd watched as the raspberry simple syrup they'd made – well, Regan had made, while Emma had poured the cupcake batter into the tins – slosh over the side of the jar it was in… all over Emma's right hand. Completely covering the opal ring she always wore.

She flicked her gaze between the syrup dripping over Emma's hand, to Emma's face, the easy rhythm they'd found in the last hour quickly replaced by anxiety. She'd ruined this tentative truce in true Regan fashion – by accident – and now Emma would respond in typical Emma fashion – incredibly irritated.

Quickly, she reached out and took Emma's sticky jar and set it on the counter. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd lifted the jar or that we were standing so close. I'll wash the ring," she offered, gesturing for Emma to take it off. "Really, I'll be careful. I'll watch a YouTube video on how to do it properly."

Her stomach knotted as she watched Emma close her eyes and take a deep breath.

Waiting.

Until Emma shook her head, those blue eyes opening again as she breathed out slowly and evenly.

"It's… fine," Emma murmured. As soon as she said the words, she nodded with them, doubling down. "Seriously, it's fine. Because," she arched her eyebrow down at Regan, "I know you didn't mean it."

Regan quickly shook her head. "I seriously, truly didn't." She brought up her hand, making an x over her chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die." She ended by diligently stepping out of Emma's way, giving her a large, hopeful smile. One was entirely genuine as relief washed through her.

Emma hadn't flipped out! Or stormed to her room! Progress!

She hadn't known just how nice it would feel for Emma not to assume the worst about her.

As Emma grimaced and tugged her ring off, she shot Regan an amused look. "I don't think I've heard anyone over the age of, like, ten say that. But somehow, I feel like you really mean it."

Regan positively beamed.

After Emma had washed her hands, she started on the ring. Carefully cleaning it without submerging it in water.

Curious, Regan walked up to her, pressing herself against Emma's back so she could look over her shoulder. "It's a really pretty ring. It's not, like, damaged, right?"

Emma glanced at her. Rather than tell Regan to back off, though, she slowly shifted her attention to the ring. "No, it's fine. I mean, it's not amazing , but it's definitely not damaged."

Regan relaxed, thoughtlessly propping her chin on Emma's shoulder so she could watch the thoughtful movements Emma made to rid the ring of the syrup. "Good. It's the only piece of jewelry you wear basically every day, so… I would've felt really bad. I mean, I would have replaced it! But, still."

She could feel the deep breath Emma took as her back pressed solidly into Regan's front as she continued to methodically clean the ring. "You couldn't have replaced it, actually. My grandfather had it made for my gram for their tenth anniversary."

Regan angled her head to look at Emma, eyes wide and excited.

Emma?! Sharing information with her?! Voluntarily ?!

"But I know you would have offered."

Regan returned her look to the ring, smiling softly down at it. "That's so sweet. And your grandmother gave you the ring? Because you two are close, right? Because that's what set off our argument – her believing we're together."

Emma paused after she swiped the damp cloth over her ring, slowly turning her head to look at Regan.

Who only realized at that moment just how close that made them, as she was still resting her chin on Emma's shoulder. She felt Emma's warm breath hit her cheek, shivering with it as their eyes met, both widening at the proximity.

Swallowing hard, Regan slowly pulled back, leaning against the counter behind her. "Um… yeah. Sorry. Personal space is something other people like, usually."

"Yes," Emma said shortly. But she didn't look annoyed; Regan was very familiar with Emma's annoyed face.

Not wanting to give Emma a moment to delve into her thoughts and get into an annoyed headspace, she waved her on. "Anyway – the ring. Your grandmother."

Emma cleared her throat, nodding at the ring in her hand. "Yes. She gave me the ring, and we are close. She gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday because it had always been my favorite."

Eager to learn more, Regan hitched herself up to sit on the counter, facing Emma. "That's really nice. Are you not as close to your grandfather?"

"No," Emma said after a beat, a softness in her voice that Regan knew she'd never heard. "He died the year before I was born, so… no."

Before Regan could delve into more questions – she certainly had them – Emma shook her head. "That's enough about me."

Unsurprised by the change in Emma's tone, Regan accepted it. No pushing, she cautioned herself again. She fluttered her eyelashes as she asked, "Does that mean we're going to make this about me ?"

"I thought that was obvious," Emma deadpanned. "So, you don't even bake with Sutton? I feel like you two do everything together."

Regan's joking smile dimmed because oh . Emma was asking her something serious, whether she knew it or not.

Gamely, though, she shrugged and answered honestly. "I mean, we have baked together, back when her mom taught us the basics." The memory of those afternoons in the Spencer home with Katherine standing between them at the kitchen island, softly but firmly giving them direction, made a warmth slide through Regan's veins. "And obviously, we live together, so we've baked together, or she's been home when I've baked sometimes. Sure."

Emma's sharp gaze stayed on her, intently, though. Regan squirmed with it, gripping the counter tightly where her fingers curled over the edge. "But?" Emma prompted.

"But we don't when it's – this." She gestured to the oven, where their cupcakes were nearly done.

"What, exactly, is this ?"

"Oh, you know. New things. Some stuff for the café." She shrugged, acting like it was nonchalant when it actually felt anything but. In reality, it felt very personal. "The recipes I create by myself."

"I didn't realize you did any baking for the café." Emma's mouth fell open as she seemed to connect the dots for something. "I knew I'd seen those cookies – the ones you baked a few weeks ago? With the pretzels and the cranberries? At Topped Off!"

Undeniably pleased, she beamed. "Yeah, those are my own creation. They're pretty popular."

"Because they're delicious," Emma easily complimented, still staring at Regan in wonder. "I have to stop myself from getting one whenever I notice they're on offer."

Even more pleased, Regan's smile grew. "Why? You should always grab one."

"You bake them, then? At the café?" Emma asked, staring at Regan curiously.

It was by far the most interest Emma had ever expressed in Regan, and it made her sit up straighter.

"No, not always. I created the recipe but shared it with everyone who bakes there. I don't really work in the back," she explained, feeling compelled to hold Emma's intense stare. "I, uh, make the schedules for the bakers, but I only hands-on manage the front of the café. Sometimes, though, when no kitchen staff are there yet or when they've left, I just…" She shrugged. "Have fun."

It felt so strange talking to Emma about this, about her process. Even at the café, with the people who knew about Regan's baking, their attention and positive comments never felt so… personal? They praised Regan's desserts but never asked for details.

"I can't believe Sutton hasn't told me about this. It feels like something she'd love to talk about."

Regan rolled her lips, tapping her fingers against the counter as unease flowed through her. Finally, she confessed, "Honestly? Sutton doesn't really know how much I do this."

Emma's stare was the picture of confusion. "Seriously, am I in the Twilight Zone right now? What ?"

Stomach working into knots, Regan quickly shook her head. "I mean, I'm not hiding it from her; she knows I bake in my free time. It's just – it's only been since last fall that I started branching out. Making my own recipes, that sort of thing."

Emma leaned back against the wall opposite Regan, looking skeptical. "Yeah, that still sounds weird to me, that Sutton wouldn't know about this. That you keep your baking a secret from her."

Refusing the urge to pick at her fingernails – a childhood habit she'd long kicked – she denied, "It's not a secret," and she only felt somewhat defensive. "I just – I only started playing around with recipes and doing my own thing last year when Sutton started dating Charlotte."

Emma slowly shook her head. "It's still not clicking for me."

Exasperation welled up inside of her, dragging out the words she'd never spoken aloud. "Because before that, Sutton and I used to hang out, like all of the time. We watched our shows together – which was great , because watching reality TV by myself just isn't much fun. In fairness, watching it with Sutton sometimes wasn't the most fun, either, because she's too nice to make bitchy or judgy commentary about people, but still. And we'd chat about life stuff, work, school, and – and, I mean, we still did after she met Charlotte. But it wasn't the same," she confessed, feeling that awful, restless, lonely feeling that she tried to stave off when she started thinking about this .

"On my nights off, when Sutton and I would normally hang out, she was with Charlotte more than half the time. And they'd spend the night at Charlotte's place. And I'm glad she has Charlotte," she added quickly, not wanting Emma to get the wrong idea. Because it was true. She wanted her best friend to find happiness; she wanted Sutton to love and be loved, and Charlotte was really shaping up.

Only… she deflated, sighing to herself. "I guess I just never thought about how much would change for me when Sutton wasn't around all the time. Suddenly, I had nothing to do during all of these nights and weekends that I used to hang out with Sutton. So, I started baking more. Branching out from the normal, basic recipes I've used in the past and just… started doing what felt right. Having fun with it."

There had been a lot of trial and error in the first couple of months. Some flavor combinations hadn't worked the way Regan thought they would, or adjustments she didn't correctly account for.

But she'd found that the more she baked her own creations, the more she'd enjoyed it. Even if the apartment was empty and her relationship with Sutton – the most solid thing in her life – was changing so rapidly, baking made their apartment feel… full. Warm. Like a home.

She didn't know what she'd find when she lifted her gaze to Emma's after that full-on word vomit. But she was met with something thoughtful. Softer than she'd expected.

It was a look she found far more comforting than she'd imagined because she felt like Emma understood her in this moment.

She paused, heart beating quickly, wondering what exactly Emma might say. Hoping more now than at any point earlier in the day that this wouldn't be the moment Emma turned grumpy or dismissive.

"Well, if you want to spend our night of bonding watching reality television, I'll do it with you. And I promise you that I'm certain I will have bitchy and judgy commentary," Emma offered.

Both shocked by the offer and delighted with it, Regan's mouth fell open. " Really ?"

"You don't think I can come through with colorful commentary?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "No, on that end, I think you will do really well. I just mean – I didn't expect the offer, is all."

She really hadn't anticipated that Emma would listen – really listen – to her long ramble and focus on the heart of it. That Regan missed having someone, especially the person she lived with, to do day-to-day things with, like watch TV. That she'd felt that way even before Sutton had left. And she certainly hadn't expected Emma to make the offer.

"Well, it is bonding day."

"True. Though, I'd initially planned for us to do karaoke together for our bonding evening." She didn't miss the way Emma blanched. "But that is a great substitute."

"Good, because karaoke is not my thing."

Regan's mouth fell open in mock surprise. "You don't say!"

It was half the reason she even wanted to do it with Emma. The first half was because Regan really enjoyed karaoke–the camaraderie feeling, putting on a show. The second part was because she really wondered what Emma would be like when pushed a little bit out of her comfort zone. Or even if she'd allow herself to be pushed out of her comfort zone.

"I'll get you to my favorite karaoke night at some point," Regan asserted.

Emma pfft 'd. "You sound really sure of yourself about that." She pointed to herself. "Stubborn, remember?"

Regan pointed to herself. "Doesn't know when to stop, remember?"

"Looks like we have a real what happens when an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object situation on our hands," Emma mused.

"The force wears the object down," Regan answered easily. "It's called erosion."

As the timer on the oven started to go off, Emma turned away from her and reached for an oven mitt. As she did, she quietly asked, "What in the world did I get myself into?"

But her tone was amused, no trace of irritation in sight.

Which delighted Regan down to her very bones. Because Emma clearly didn't realize that she was a lot more movable than she'd thought.

And Regan would be quite happy to help her find out.