I slumped against the prep table and stared at the batch of cupcakes I’d just made. They looked horrible. As corny as it sounded, baking wasn’t something you should do when you were pissed off, and my cupcakes were a testament to that. They were lopsided, too dry, and I’d decorated them like I had clubs for hands.

“Soo,” Stephanie said. She was leaning near the dishwasher as she studied me with her arms crossed. Her hair was held in a bun on top of her head and speared through with what looked like chopsticks. “Are you going to tell me why you just abused those poor cupcakes, or do I have to play detective, like usual?”

“Girl problems,” I said.

She nodded. “I don’t need to be a detective to know that much. I’m asking what kind of girl problems. What happened with you and Emily?”

“It ended is what happened.”

“What? I didn’t even know it started. What happened to keeping me in the loop?”

“It started last night, and it ended this morning. It’s probably a new world record for the shortest relationship ever.”

“What did you do?”

I turned to face her. “Who says I did something? I mean, arguably I did do some stupid things, but I’d already apologized for those. It was kind of conditional on the relationship starting in the first place. The breakup isn’t even my fault.”

She looked skeptical. “What did she do?”

“She accepted a job halfway across the world without a second thought.”

“Does it have something to do with her whole art school thing?”

“Yes,” I groaned.

“I thought that was in January.”

I sighed. “It was, then it wasn’t. But it doesn’t matter. She made her choice, and I’m happy for her.”

“Yeah,” Stephanie said. She picked up one of my cupcakes and turned it around in her hand with a disgusted look on her face. “You look thrilled.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Be pissed that she cares more about her lifelong dream than some guy she met a couple weeks ago? I can’t tell her not to go after this job.”

“Who says you can’t be pissed?” she asked. Some of her usual hopeless romantic look was starting to creep into her expression. She took a step toward me and jabbed a finger at my chest. “Who says you have to just let her walk out of your life?” Jab. “Who says you can’t fight for your woman?” Jab. “Who says,” she started, almost yelling now. “Who says you can’t go after her! Chase her down in the airport. This is your final act, Ryan. It’s the part of the movie where everybody knows the credits are going to roll soon, and they know if it was real life, you would just let her walk, because that’s what normal people do. But they are watching a freaking movie, so they know you’re going to do something extraordinary, something that inspires them, and they’re going to cheer for you the whole way.”

I threw my hands up and looked around the bakery. “One problem. No cameras here. In your little scenario, they also know the girl would never turn down the guy. They know whatever dumb stunt he pulls is going to work. What happens if I chase her through the airport and she just looks at me like I’m an idiot?”

“Then you know you tried, and you don’t have to stand here abusing cupcakes for the next few months until you finally get over her. Except you’ll never really get over her. You’ll see hints of her in every woman you ever talk to if you let her go. You’ll wake up in a cold sweat wondering what if. You’ll—”

“I get it. I do, really. And…” I looked at her and groaned. “As much as I hate admitting this to you, I was already planning on a stupid stunt. Okay?”

“You’re going to get her pregnant,” she whispered in stunned reverie, like it was the most genius idea she’d ever heard.”

“What? No. The cupcakes. They’re part of the stupid stunt. Except not these ones, because they turned out horrible.”

Stephanie’s eyes lit up. “Oh. My. God. How can I help?”

Against my better judgment, I let Stephanie contribute some ideas to my grand scheme. As a result, it had somehow spiraled into a complicated, theatrical event that involved me, Stephanie, Steve, Bruce, Natasha, William, Hailey, and even Grammy.

We all met in William's massive apartment at five in the morning. Everybody looked dressed and ready to go, except William, who wore a fuzzy, white bathrobe and kept yawning.

“I’m going to go over it one last time so everyone knows their job,” I said. I pointed at a map I’d printed out of the city. I’d highlighted Emily’s apartment and the quickest path to the airport. William had threatened to fire Lilith if she didn’t do some digging and find out what time Emily’s flight was, so we knew a rough window of when she’d be leaving. I tapped the spot where I had her apartment marked. “Bruce and Natasha, you’re the lookouts in her apartment lobby. Wear a disguise or something so she doesn’t spot you, and then text me as soon as you see her leave.”

“I’m not wearing a disguise,” Bruce said. He bit into the banana he was holding and chewed mechanically while he watched me with those cold eyes of his.

Natasha nudged him. “We’ve got that police officer outfit, from the honeymoon.”

Bruce’s jaw flexed, and I could’ve sworn I saw red creep into his cheeks.

William did a comically slow turn toward his brother with wide-eyed delight. “Officer Bruce? Why is it so easy to picture that?” He barked out a laugh.

Hailey covered her mouth beside him and kept sneaking glances at Bruce, who was now chewing into his banana with studied ferocity.

“Well,” I said, barely keeping laughter from my own voice. “A police officer might be a bit too conspicuous. It’d also probably be best if you weren’t sexually aroused. I’ll need you to focus.”

Bruce gave me a glare that could’ve melted steel beams. “No costume,” he said coldly.

“Just try to stay out of sight,” I said.

Natasha was still grinning at Bruce. She slid her arm behind his back and I saw him give a little, surprised jump like she’d pinched his butt. When he thought no one was watching, he gave her a very meaningful stare that said she was probably going to pay for that, and they were both going to enjoy the punishment.

“Steve, you’re going to wait at the corner here. If traffic is bad, she might actually go a different route, and we need to know if she’s going to make it to the bridge or not. If she goes straight, you text me ‘good,’ if she goes left, you text me ‘bad.’ Okay?”

He pursed his lips. “I was thinking code words would be better. What if she intercepts the texts or something? I could say ‘The condor flies true’ for her going straight. And I could say, like, ‘Westerly winds prevail’ if she goes left.”

“Left would be Easterly winds,” William said. He tapped the map to show Steve what he was talking about.

“Oh shit, you’re right. Okay, ‘Easterly winds prevail,’ then.”

"Actually," Hailey said. "I'm pretty sure condors aren't native here. Maybe an Osprey would make more sense?"

“Actually,” I said. “Maybe we could just stick with good and bad? Who the hell is going to intercept a text?”

Steve pulled a face. “You’d be surprised. You’d be surprised.”

“Somehow I don’t think I would. Just make sure you text me which way she goes, okay?”

"That's a big ten-four," he said.

“And no more code talk.”

“Copy that.”

I sighed. “William and Hailey. You two are going to wait at her gate in the airport to run distraction if I don’t get there in time. Find a way to stall her if I text you. If not, just browse a gift shop or something, I don’t care.”

“Sounds easy, got it,” said William.

“And Grammy, you get a ticket.” I handed her a ticket for the flight Emily was taking. “If everything goes wrong and she manages to get on the plane, you’re my last resort. You make a scene and get the flight delayed. Bonus points if you can get everyone off the plane.”

Grammy studied the ticket, then nodded. “Gucci.”

I groaned. “Do kids even say that one, anymore?”

She shrugged. “Why, am I making you uncomfortable, bitch?”

I was torn between laughing and shaking my head in annoyance, but settled on ignoring her comment.

William reached out to fist bump her. “Nice,” he whispered.

She side-eyed his fist and then crossed her arms.

“Asshole,” he muttered.

“What’s my job?” Stephanie asked.

“Half of this was your idea. Do you really need me to tell you again?”

She pouted a little. “I wanted to feel like part of the team.”

“Okay. Your job is to go get the cupcakes when we’re done here and meet me at the bridge with them.”

“Got it!” She half-shouted, then cleared her throat and spoke again, much more quietly this time. “Got it.”

“Then it’s a plan,” I said. “Let’s do this.”