“First,” I say, “I need to learn how to bake a cake.”
Pee-Pee’s lips twitch in amusement. “And then?”
Something flickers across my mind, something certain and real, but I don’t say it out loud. Instead, I just smile slightly and stand, grabbing my bag. “I guess we’ll see.”
Pee-Pee watches me, curious but letting it go.
I give her a small wave. “Same time next week?”
She nods. “Looking forward to hearing about the cake.”
I smirk. “You and me both.”
18
Lost, Soaked, Frozen, or Eaten by Foxes
Theo
The espresso machine hissesas I rinse the steam wand, filling the café with the scent of dark roast and warm milk. It’s the slow stretch before closing, that quiet pocket of time when the rush is over, and all that’s left are the regulars lingering over their last sips.
Then the door swings open, and Ivy stumbles in, drowning in shopping bags.
She makes it to the counter whilst huffing and puffing, dumping herself onto a stool at the far end. One of the bags slips from her grip, toppling onto the floor, and out clatters a whisk. A big, professional-grade one, the kind you’d expect in a restaurant kitchen rather than a home. It rolls a little before coming to a stop against the leg of a near-by table.
I raise an eyebrow. “Expecting to whisk an entire vat of something?”
She exhales dramatically, pushing damp hair off her forehead. “If you value my life, Theo, you’ll make me something caffeinated. Strong enough to bring me back from the abyss.”
I glance at the whisk, then at her. “So… not aWiener Melangethen?”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Will it fix my life?”
I smirk, reaching for a portafilter. “It’s basically a Viennese take on a cappuccino, so it might help. But given your current state, I’m thinking something stronger.Doppio mit Schlag?”
She leans forward, suspicious. “And what exactly is that?”
“A double espresso with whipped cream.”
She lets out a long breath. “Now that I can get behind.”
Once done, I slide the coffee across the counter, watching as Ivy wraps her fingers around it like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth. She takes a sip, lets out a small, almost indecent sigh of satisfaction, then finally lifts her head enough to meet my gaze.
“So,” I say, nodding at the mountain of shopping bags, “are you stocking up for the apocalypse, or is there another questionable hobby I should prepare myself for?”
She blows on her coffee. “Baking.”
“Baking?” I can’t help but snort.
“Baking,” she confirms, taking another sip.
I glance at the whisk still lying on the floor like an abandoned weapon. “As in, making food people willingly eat?”
“Yes, Theo. That is the general concept.”
I fold my arms, leaning on the counter. “And you’ve chosen to do this… voluntarily? The person who burns water, if I may quote?”
She huffs. “Look, I’m perfectly aware that I’m no Mary Berry, but I can follow a recipe.”
