Cake

Wren sat across from her cousin, watching the interplay.

“If he wanted you to know his new cell number, he’d have given it to you.”

Kelsey paused, holding the phone away from her ear. The yelling from the other side was audible.

“I’m his wife! I need to talk to him.” Oh, her.

Kelsey rolled her eyes and, the genius was, it sounded in her voice, too. “You’re his ex-wife and if you have a message you’d like me to pass on, I’m happy to do so.”

Kelsey examined her nails as the yelling continued. Finally she’d reached her limit after a particularly vicious spate of epithets was hurled her way. “Nice. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Classy. This call is done now. I’ll let him know you’re looking for him. Don’t call back.” She hung up.

Kelsey snorted. “The last thing he needs is that crazy bitch back in his life. Ugh.”

The crazy bitch was Prentiss Ivanov, Gregori’s ex-wife. Wren was biased, of course, but she thought the way Prentiss kept pulling Gregori back into her life when she got bored was selfish and petty. Every time they reconciled he devolved into too much everything and yet not enough. Too much partying, too much anger and public scene making. Not enough work on his art, not enough happiness or stability.

“I thought they were done for good. Why’s she calling you?”

“After the last time they had one of their reconciliations, he cut her off. He changed his number, had the building owner change the codes and locks on the outer door at his place. He’s done, thank god. Anyway, she’s getting his message and she doesn’t like it. I think she truly thinks if she can get him face-to-face, she can pull him back in.”

Wren took the envelope and a few other packages. “I hope she’s wrong. I don’t think it’s good for either of them. I have one other delivery to make and then I’ll go to his place. Call me if anything changes.”

It was an hour or so later when Wren buzzed up from downstairs as the main door to the street was locked. He didn’t respond so she used her key and let herself in. Her arms were full so she took the elevator, hearing the music before the doors even slid open on his floor.

It was a guess that he was working. He often didn’t come to the door when he was. She had a key but the last thing Wren wanted was to let herself in and interrupt some makeup sex if the crazy ex had gotten past Gregori’s protests and back into his bed.

She kicked the door because her hands were full. No answer. There was only one other tenant on his floor and the building had good security, so it wasn’t a risk to leave stuff. She scribbled a quick note and then texted him, informing him there were deliveries on his doorstep.

As she headed back to the elevator she heard his voice, raised, arguing in Russian with someone. His door opened and he stormed into the hall. His face…she froze at the anger on his features. But then it was chased away as he recognized her.

“Wren!”

Standing, her hand on the doorknob of the stairwell, she was able to tear her gaze from his face to find him, barefoot, in threadbare jeans and a snug T-shirt, his hair in a ponytail, eyes ablaze with emotion. The intensity of the entire package continued to freeze her in place.

“Yeah?”

He lifted a shoulder and she saw beneath the hard outer shell, into the vulnerability beneath. “Why are you running off? Why didn’t you let yourself in?”

She blew out a breath. “I didn’t know if you were working or if you…had a visitor.”

He snorted and jerked his head toward his door. “Come.”

“I really should go.”

He put a hand on his hip. “Why?”

“I have a job. Other deliveries to make.”

“Your hands are empty.”

She sighed, annoyed. “Of course they are. I delivered your things.”

“Do you really have another delivery to make right now? Or can you come in for a bit? I need a break and you’re good company.”

She should have said she did. But instead, she narrowed her eyes. “Sounds like you already have company.”

“Me? No. I’m alone.”

She took a few steps closer. “I just heard you yelling.”

He shrugged. “I do that. It was a phone call.” He turned, bending to pick his things up. “Stop hovering five feet away as if I’m going to gobble you up. Come in. I have baked goods. Is your bicycle all right? Do you need to go bring it up?”

She’d left her bike in the lobby. It was locked in a rack. Everything was fine. He was her last delivery of the day. Not that he needed to know that.

“It’s fine. It’s locked up downstairs.”

“Why are you hesitating? Do you think I’m going to pounce on you?”

She wished.

“What sort of baked goods?”

“Macarons.”

“Well, you should have said.” She moved inside, closing the door in her wake. The place was a disordered mess. Not his usual.

“My mother came over this morning with them. Had I known it would take so little to lure you inside, I would have ordered them straight from Paris.”

She rolled her eyes. “Who were you yelling at?”

Wren followed him into the kitchen.

“I have coffee instead of tea. Would you prefer I make tea?”

“You’re awful accommodating today.”

“I’m accommodating every day.”

She barked a laugh. “You’re imperious every day. Two days ago you took the envelope from me, snorted and closed the door.”

“I did?”

She simply raised a brow and waited.

“I’m sorry. I get wrapped up in work.”

“Apology accepted. Coffee is fine. I have work to do tonight anyway.”

“Night deliveries?” He frowned. “Is that safe?”

“No, I’m done working for the day. I have schoolwork to do. I’m meeting someone I’m doing a group project with. I have time to eat cookies, but I need to bike back home in a bit.”

“I’ll give you a ride. It’s raining.”

“It’s Seattle—it’s always raining.”

“What is this project?”

“It’s a short animated film. Shane, my partner, is doing all the edits so I’m going to his apartment to see the progress.”

Gregori glowered a moment.

“Why are you grumpy? Grumpier than usual, I mean.” She grabbed milk from his fridge for the coffee.

“What makes you think I’m grumpy?”

“I have eyes. Milk?”

He nodded and she poured him a dollop before putting the carton away.

“You’re frowning at me. Excessively.”

“Did you bring your art to show me?”

She sipped her coffee. “I might have some in my bag. If you, say, wanted to tell me why you’re grumpy.”

“Oh, so it’s like that?”

She laughed. “Yes, yes I think it is. Maybe I don’t want to show it to you when you’re testy. What if you hate it and then you frown at me over it? I could get a complex. And wouldn’t that be a shame?”

He grinned, the dark cloud of his mood chased from his features. “I highly doubt you’re capable of complexes.”

“Hmm. You should know a hell of a lot more about women, buster. You’re constantly drowning in them, so why are you acting like you’ve never seen one?” She winked. “I’m not superhuman. Of course I’m capable of complexes. Back to you and your issues, please.”

“It’s complicated personal business.”

“Personal.” She rolled her r like he did. “Your ex-wife.”

One of his brows rose. “Well, aren’t you industrious?”

“I’m totally industrious. It’s a gift. However, I know she’s in town because she called to yell at Kelsey when I was there earlier.”

“She yelled at Kelsey? About what?”

“Oh, no thank you. I’ve already told you more than I should have. Kelsey is a badass. She can handle your ex-wife.”

“She’s difficult. At one point I suppose I found it exciting. Now it’s just exhausting.”

“Stop getting back with her then.”

“Are you giving me relationship advice, little bird?”

Little bird? She fought a blush.

“Sure, why not?”

“Can I give you relationship advice, too?”

“Sure. If I have one, you can give me advice on it.”

“I do not get back together with her. We’re divorced. She wanted it, but years later, I’m certainly relieved I gave in.”

“I’ll be blunt. Stop having sex with her. Ex sex is never a good thing. You fuck her a few times and then it always crashes and burns. It’s not like you’re hurting for company.”

He supposed, though, that he was. Not hurting precisely, but he was lonely. Prentiss was someone he’d known, intimately, for several years. Sometimes that was comforting. Not so much these days. He’d grown up, but she hadn’t. It was less exciting and more vexing.

The truth was, he found the woman across from him far more interesting than the one he’d left several years before. Apparently his mother had been right and he was finally growing up.

“Also? You’re not a nice person when you two get back together.”

He paused. “I’m not?”

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

Wren looked up from her cup and right through him. “You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t. Be honest.”

“You’re a selfish dick when you’re with her. You drink way more. You party too hard. Harder than you already do. She wrings you out and fucks you up and toys with you and then she leaves and you have to put yourself back together again. Your work suffers. You’re not even like those artists who work better when they’re depressed.”

He sucked in a breath. He’d told her to be honest. She’d taken him at his word.

“It’s been a year since the last time. I’m not interested anymore. That’s why I’m grumpy. She’s persistent.” A year ago it would have worked. Now it agitated him.

“So you yelled at her in Russian?”

He laughed. “I did. It’s my emotional language. When I’m really pissed off, I end up thinking and speaking Russian. She doesn’t speak it. But she gets the swear words and the tone. She went through my mother to get my new number. I don’t like that. I’m trying to keep her away.”

“That’s why the door downstairs was locked.”

“Yes. I don’t want her stopping by.”

His ex-wife was a drain. On his life. On his bank account. On everything.

“That’s good. Locking the door, I mean. Try not answering her calls. You know, to underline it.”

“That’s some pretty sage advice. Do you have a pesky ex I don’t know about?”

“No. My life is considerably less exciting than yours. I’m a woman. I think she’s going to keep coming at you until you finally underline your no. That back-and-forth has been part of your relationship. Part of the zing.”

He paused. That part was true. And maybe his hunger for someone who knew him as more than the guy in the headlines. But really, Prentiss didn’t know him that much better than the hangers-on did. Not anymore. It’d been a long time since he was the man who she’d been married to.

“Maybe at one time. But I’m too old for it now. I just don’t have the energy for it.”

“So stop having sex with her.”

He leaned back, feeling a lot better. “It was good sex.” But the emotional hangover wasn’t worth it.

She rolled her eyes. “Pfft. Good sex isn’t that rare. I’ll never understand men who keep going back to the crazy-ex well. Jeez. Then you all act so surprised when she goes nuts.”

“Enough about her. Show me your work.”

She put her cup down and pulled a pad from her bag. But she didn’t hand it over right away, clutching it to her chest. “Some of this is still rough.”

He leaned forward, totally unable to resist. “I like it rough.”

She sucked in a breath, a pretty flush building up her neck. She thrust the pad into his hands and grabbed her coffee.

He paged through, impressed. Her work had a sense of humor but with an edge.

“Do you handle all of this? The story and the drawing? Or is this a group project thing?”

“That’s all me. A new series I’m working on. Once it’s polished I’m going to shop it around. Time to really get out there and see if I can do this for a living.” She shoved a cookie into her mouth and jiggled her knee.

Why she was nervous he had no idea. He paged through, amazed and impressed by her work. “I like this a great deal.” Her protagonist was an artist who bore a strong resemblance to the woman sitting across from him. Right down to the Docs on her feet. An assassin but not always a very good one.

“Yeah?”

“The story is interesting. Will there be sex scenes?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Maybe.”

“She’s very sarcastic. I wonder where you get all the material for her.”

She snickered. “I’m really only at five or six on the sarcasm scale when I come to see you. You should see me when I’m not working.”

He should. He got the feeling it would be a hell of a lot of fun to see Wren Davis when she wasn’t on duty.

“You don’t need company manners here with me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, these aren’t my company manners. I’d never tell any of my other clients to stop fucking their crazy ex-wives.”

He nearly choked on his coffee. “I think I’m flattered by that. Give me a while to really be sure though. I might have some contacts. Publishing ones, I mean.”

She shook her head, reaching for the pad, which he kept because he wasn’t done looking.

“No. It’s okay. I can do this on my own.”

“Of course you can. But why not let a friend help you? Do you think this business isn’t rife with connections and networking? Isn’t that part of why you told me you went to school? The connections?”

“I appreciate the offer, but for now, I’m fine.”

“Other people would jump at that offer.” Was his help so terrible?

“I’m not other people, Gregori. I’m not your ex-wife. I’m not a hanger-on. I’m not a groupie.”

He was quiet a while as he continued to look through her work. Yes, she was most definitely not other people. Which fascinated him even as he knew he should be wary.

“I’ll offer again, when you’re closer to sending the project out. In the time between now and then, I want you to think on accepting help when it’s offered. If I wasn’t genuinely interested, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

She sighed. “I’ll think on it. Thank you.”

“Good. If only you always agreed with everything I said, imagine how much easier things would be.” He winked, his bad mood long gone. “I’m having a show next week. Friday night. I meant to ask if you wanted tickets when you were here last but I forgot.” He got up and grabbed the envelope. “I have four but I can easily get more.”

“I’d only need two. That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

He handed them her way. “Only two? Will you bring a date then?”

“Do you recommend it? A date to this show?” Her smile was lopsided and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the dimple there on the right side of her mouth. Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“I don’t know. If it’s just you, or you and your roommate, you could always come out with me afterward. To Fixe. There will be a party there.” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant when he suddenly felt anything but. “I mean with a group. There will be others along. I think you’d like many of them.”

He’d invited her to one other after-party, but he’d seen her there for all of five minutes and when he’d looked up again she’d been gone.

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