The awaiting photographers scramble and stumble over each other when they see me striding out of the store like a woman on a mission.
“You want a statement?” I shout out as they fumble to slide their cameras over to video mode to record what I have to say. “I’ll give you a statement. You want to know how I feel about everything that’s going on? How it feels to be accused and vilified and lied about when no one has a clue what the truth is?”
I set the box of cupcakes down with a resounding thud on one of the tables I have out front for customers. I pause for dramatic effect to make sure I have their attention and give them time to get the best angle.
“I get angry. But I don’t make up more lies and spread them around to make me feel better and to get more attention. I don’t call reporters, lie to them about where to find more gossip, and drop hints that aren’t true. No. Because if I did, you’d know I’m not the story here. Not in the least. But I have more class than that. More couth. Instead I bake. I eat chocolate. And I get out my anger by doing this.”
I pick up a cupcake, flash the top—make sure the One To Smash is showing to the cameras—and then I smash it between my hands á la the grudge-match cupcake war I had with Hayes. The photographers startle as cupcake shrapnel flies everywhere.
The image of Hayes’s bare chest covered in cupcake crumbs fills my mind and how I wanted to lick them off of him. And the thought is ten times more appealing than the slew of paparazzi in front of me but it makes seeing them that much more bearable.
“I make grudge cupcakes. Where there’s one for me to get my chocolate fix.” I hold up the one that says Oats To Sow. Take a small bite. Then hold up the One To Throw cupcake as shutters click. “And this one’s to get my frustration and aggression out.” And this time when I smash it, I earn a chuckle from them.
“So you see? Nothing important is going on here that you can take a picture of to sell, other than the ones you just took of me making grudge cupcakes and smashing them. But if you do sell the photos, make sure they’re accompanied with some ridiculous headlines like, ‘Saylor Rodgers goes crazy on a cupcake-smashing spree because Hayes Whitley has left her for Medusa’s little sister.’ Because if you’re going to lie, why not go all out, right? So print what you will. Say what you want. I know the truth. Hayes knows the truth. Jenna most definitely knows the truth. That’s it. I’ll just be in here making more cupcakes. I might even send a few out to compensate for your time since I’m not giving you any camera-worthy breakdown moments to sell. Everyone here like chocolate? Good. Sit tight.”
With that, I lick a piece of frosting off my fingers, look to the box of remaining cupcakes, and decide to leave it on the table so they can take a closer look and maybe even take a picture or two. Perhaps that’s why I make sure to strategically position the box so the pair of cupcakes I want to be seen are front and center for the camera lens: One cupcake says YES, it’s always been HIM and its match says NOT YOU, Golf Boy.
Yeah. Those cupcakes are keeping me warm, now. Asshole.
And with a smug smile on my face because I know Mitch will see it and understand my message, I turn my back to them without another word.
When I open the door to the bakery, I feel the best I have since I woke up in Hayes’s arms before the shit hit the fan.
And when I look up, Ryder is staring at me with wide eyes and a shocked smile, pride written all over his face. “That was brilliant, Say.”
I shrug. “If you can’t give them what they want, you might as well give them what you want.”
“Free publicity is never a bad thing.”
“Thanks, but I’ve had enough publicity for a lifetime the past few days.”
I move to the back, wash my hands, and feel a little more sure of myself now that I know facing the beast wasn’t as horrible as I thought. Of course I know the crowd outside is nothing compared to some of the other mob scenes I’ve seen surrounding Hayes when he leaves a club or a premiere or does anything, and yet it’s still better than expected.
Baby steps. One after another, right back to Hayes’s arms.
“For you.” Ryder’s voice startles me. I dry my hands on a towel and narrow my eyes at the package as he sets it down.
I carefully set down the box, but when I remove the top, it is empty.
All except for a red heart drawn on a piece of paper. The words written in the center bring tears to my eyes.
Sorry. I’m not giving this one back. Hayes.
Hey @SweetChks . . . Just giving you back all of the things I stole from you over the years . . . Whatever could I mean? #GrudgeCupcakes #10Days
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Kisses
Time
Your Heart