“Here,” Blake said, his voice jittery. He pushed the cake box and envelope at her. “For you . . .”
Mac knew he wouldn’t leave until she opened the lid. Inside was a single cupcake with a violin shaped out of gummy worms. The icing was sloppy—it was clear Blake had crafted it himself. Briefly, Mac tried to picture it: him standing over a mixing bowl, then checking on the cupcake in the oven, then carefully positioning the gummies just so. That seemed like a lot of effort for someone he’d tried to sabotage.
“Congrats on Juilliard,” Blake said gently. “I’m so proud of you.”
Mac’s head shot up. “How did you know I got in?”
Blake blinked. He looked caught. That was when Mac understood: He knew because Claire had told him. Which meant they were still talking.
“I heard it from Claire, but that was the last thing we talked about before we broke up,” Blake said quickly, as if he could sense Mac’s thought process. “It’s awesome, Macks. You so deserve it.” He shifted closer. “What will it take for you to forgive me? Do I have any chance?”
Mac could feel her eyes filling with tears. Just a few days ago, she would have given anything to hear Blake say that—to say that he wanted her, he chose her. For so long he’d been the guy on a pedestal, the one she wanted so badly but couldn’t have.
But now he wasn’t any of those things. He was just Blake the backstabber. Blake, the guy who truly didn’t get it. How could she ever trust him again after what he’d done? How could he ever be that perfect, ideal Blake she’d fantasized about for so long?
She closed the bakery box. “There’s no chance,” she blurted, grabbing the unopened envelope and walking inside.
And when she shut the door, she shut all thoughts of Blake firmly behind her.
CHAPTER TWO
“JULIE?” A HOARSE CRY SOUNDED through Julie Redding’s bedroom door on Monday.
Julie rolled over, pulled the covers all the way over her head, and willed herself back to sleep. It was quiet for a moment, but then, “Julie? Julie!” This call was more urgent.
With a grunt of frustration, Julie kicked off her crisp white duvet and sat up in her hospital-cornered bed. Her silk camisole felt smooth against her skin. Soft morning sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains. Lilting birds welcomed the day outside, and a gentle breeze washed over her face through the open window. Her room was in perfect order, just as she had left it the night before. Except for her crumpled James jeans and gray cashmere cardi—both from last season, bought secondhand—which she’d peeled off and let fall to the floor before collapsing into bed.
All around her, the day was dawning beautifully, perfectly . . . but Julie felt only darkness and grief. She heard the mewling and scratching of cats—hordes and hordes of cats—outside her bedroom door. And her mother’s desperate voice.
“JULIE!”
Julie bolted from the bed and stomped across her room, past the extra twin bed where her best friend, Parker, usually slept. Parker hadn’t come here last night—again.
She flung open the door. The precious, invaluable, beloved door, the only thing that separated her world from her mother’s. The only thing that kept the moldering mess at bay, protecting Julie’s domain from the contamination on the other side. As the door opened, the pungent stew of mildewed newspapers, food-caked dishes, crusted tins of cat food, and wet fabric wafted over her. She swallowed hard to suppress her gag reflex.
“What?” she growled at her mother, who stood in the crowded hallway. Guilt spiked through Julie when Mrs. Redding’s fleshy face crumpled, but she pushed it away. The last thing she could handle on top of everything else was her mother. Julie rubbed both hands over her face, trying to will her brain into some form of Zen state. No luck. The best she could muster was a calm exterior. She took a couple of deep breaths. “I mean, yes, Mom?” she said, her voice now neutral and controlled.
Mrs. Redding pushed a strand of greasy hair out of her eyes. “School’s already started, you know,” she barked. “But since you’re already late, you might as well pick me up some Diet Sprite and cat litter for later.”
Julie set her jaw. “I can’t. I’m never going out again.”
“Why not?”
Julie looked away. Because of you, actually. Because of a horrible email that someone sent around to the whole student body about you.