It’s the day after the MRI, and I’m in the kitchen at Amaryllis Events. I’m on edge not only because I’m waiting for the results but because I’m working all night. Yesterday while I was out, Phil took another order for a birthday cake, this time for a local leukemia patient from Ridgefield. The parents were almost embarrassed to call us for such a small cake, but they were desperate to find a baker. Phil, not having any idea other issues were weighing down my mind, immediately accepted.

It’s just that today, I’m tired. So tired. Tired of handling this alone with no one to lean on but Bryan. Today, I just want to curl up somewhere comfortable and sleep. But a sixteen-year-old high school football player is relying on me, and I can sleep when I’m dead, right? Only, who knows when that day is coming. It might be sooner than any of us anticipate.

And just that quickly, I’m glaring at the phone, willing it to ring. Deep in my heart, I already know what Bryan’s going to say when he calls. It’s why, although my kitchen is prepped, I’m waiting to finish the last cake.

The cake and I are going to be a damned mess, one I don’t want anyone to witness. I’m going to bleed my soul onto that cake before I drop the mask back on my face to deal with another tomorrow.

Hearing a rap against the kitchen door, I turn around. Holly’s head peeks through, and she has her camera in hand. “Hey, Cori. Got a minute?”

“Sure, Hols.” I gesture my baby sister forward. Frowning at the camera in her hand, I hold up my hands. “No, no pictures today.”

Her lips turn down. “Didn’t Phil tell you?”

I run a hand over my forehead. “Likely not. Phil always manages to leave out salient details about crap, Hols. What was he supposed to tell me?”

“Well…” Holly hesitates. She holds up her camera and bites her lower lip. “Phil agreed to…”

I can only guess. “Pictures? Of me decorating the cake?”

Holly nods.

I let out a long sigh. I wasn’t planning on having my raw emotions caught on camera. “Okay. Sure. Fine. But not now. I wasn’t planning on starting until after dinner.”

Setting her camera down on one of the clean worktables, Holly hitches up on a stool. “Late night planned?”

Nodding, I reach down for the bottle of water I’ve been nursing all day. “I just finished the Marino wedding cake.”

“Yum. The one with the cannoli filling?” Holly’s smile is as bright as her magnificent red hair.

“Shh, don’t say it so loud. You know Phil has a radar for leftovers. If you want the extra filling, you can have it later, after you’re done taking pictures.”

She jumps up and goes into the walk-in fridge for a few moments. When she comes out, she’s wearing a smug smile. “What did you do?”

“I used your tape and a Sharpie to relabel it as peas. You know he’ll never go after it then.” We both break out in gales of laughter knowing our brother hates English peas.

“Diabolical. I love it.” Leaning over to give her a high five, I start to feel a bit woozy. I quickly mask it by glancing at the clock. “Damn, is it one o’clock already? I shouldn’t have missed breakfast this morning. I need to eat.”

Holly frowns. “I noticed you’ve dropped a lot of weight, Cori. Why?”

Because I might be dying. Because I’m so self-conscious since Colby came back into our lives. Take your pick. “It was time for me to look at what I was putting into my body and determine what was healthy. I want to be around as long as possible.”

Nothing of what I’ve said is a lie. It’s just not the entire truth.

Then again, nothing since that night with Colby Hunt has been.

Crossing to me, Holly gives me a swift hug. “You’re nothing but skin and bones, Cori. I’m worried. Are you sure this is healthy?”

“My doctor hasn’t objected,” I tease her gently. And Bryan hasn’t. He also hasn’t said anything about it. He’s more concerned about what’s inside my head than what’s swirling around my hips and ass.

“Just promise me that you’re not letting some stupid guy tell you that you have to lose weight,” Holly threatens, cupping my face. “You’re beautiful now, but you were a knockout before.” She bursts out laughing. “What am I saying? You’ve known that forever. Seriously, even Colby had a thing for you back in school. I still don’t know why you two didn’t get together back then. I figure it was just bad timing with everything that happened to us.”

I had just taken a drink of water and choke on it. “Please. The last thing Colby Hunt had was a thing for me. He thought I was a relative of the bovine family, Holly. I even heard him say something to that effect once.” And trust me, once was more than enough.

And just that quickly, the puzzle pieces fall into place for Holly. “That’s why you stopped being friends with him, isn’t it?”

“One of a few reasons, yes. Colby forced me to grow up hard and fast.” It feels good to let some of the steam from the pressure cooker off. Twiddling with my bottle cap, I drop it on the table. “I was nothing more than a game to him.” Without waiting for her response, I continue. “In one breath he encouraged me to trust the world and that it was safe to turn out the lights.” I meet Holly’s empathetic gaze. “Then he plunged me into the dark all the while laughing.” Finishing the bottle of water, I snag the cap off the counter and toss it into the trash. It makes a swooshing sound as it lands. “Why should I let someone like that into my life?”

Holly contemplates her camera. “Does he know you overheard him?”

I bark out a laugh. “If he didn’t want to be overheard, he shouldn’t have said it, Hols. Now, you asked why I doubt Colby had feelings for me? Users don’t have them. He wanted something, he found a way to get it. I just happened to learn that the hard way.” Too hard.

Holly moves toward me and wraps her arms around me, giving me a hug. We stand like that until we’re interrupted by the phone ringing.

Crap. The phone. Bryan is calling with my results.

“Hols…” The phone stops ringing. “I really need to get back to work.” The phone starts ringing again. “Why don’t you come back around—” I glance up at the clock, which reads a quarter to three. “—seven, to watch me decorate the cake? I still have one more to do before then.” Which I hope I don’t screw up after Bryan tells me what he’s going to tell me.

The phone stops ringing. He’ll give it one more shot.

“Okay. But promise me you’ll eat something before you start.” Holly makes her way over to her camera and picks it up. Before I can answer, the phone starts ringing again. She laughs out loud.

“After you answer that call. I’m guessing they’re about to receive an infamous Corinna Freeman tongue-lashing between your being hangry and your schedule.”

You have no idea, sister, I think to myself. Quickly picking up the handset, I answer, “Amaryllis Events, can you please hold?”

“Yes, Corinna,” Bryan’s voice comes through the line, quiet and patient, giving nothing away.

Placing the call on hold, I turn back to my sister. “So, seven? I might start on the cake before that though,” I warn.

She waves off my concern as she makes her way to the kitchen door. “I just need a few good shots, Cori. You probably won’t even know I’m here.”

Nodding, I toss her a semblance of a smile before pointing back to the phone. Hearing the swoosh of the door, I take Bryan off hold. “I’m sorry. I know you’re busy, but my sister was in here.”

“That’s fine.” His tone is flat.

I begin to pace back and forth. If I was wearing a heart monitor like Ali does when she runs, I guarantee it would be sounding off with my racing pulse. “Bryan, what is it?” When there’s nothing but silence on the other end, something in me just snaps. “Tell me, damnit.”

He sighs. “I’d like you to come in and meet with Dr. Braddock.”

“Shit.” I don’t even realize the word is out of my mouth until I hear Bryan reply.

“What does your schedule look like tomorrow?” And then he starts making plans for me to meet the interim head of Greenwich neurology.

Hours later, I don’t know how I managed to decorate the second cake. Fortunately for me, the couple wanted a simple yellow buttercream with a seashell piping. It was beautiful in its elegance but required very little thought.

I only hope I didn’t use salt instead of sugar for the icing.

For the first time in more than ten years, I reach for a spoon to taste the thin orange liquid that resembles Delsym cough syrup more than frosting. The sweet candy flavor coats my tongue. Infuriated I can’t trust myself with a simple recipe, I hurl the spoon into the sink. My chest heaves as I think, Too soon. I know I was gifted with years, but it’s too soon.

This is sheer agony. My head bows. I succumb for just a moment to the helplessness of my situation.

Maybe I should just go to the pasture behind my house where the cows used to graze and find my burial plot now, I think bitterly. At least I’ll be among my relatives. Well, the relatives that don’t want to sell me for drugs. The raw laugh that escapes me is cut off by Phil’s voice coming down the hall.

“I swear, Em, Cori’s wasting away. Soon, her ass is just going to fade away.”

“Keep scheduling her for extra work, then. That gives her so much time to relax and recuperate, you jackass.” Em is furious. “If Cass knew, she’d have you pinned against the wall and all your hair cut off for sure.”

“I figured Cori would be more pissed at me if I didn’t schedule this particular cake than if I had,” Phil replies, trying to defend himself. “Now hush; I just want to peek in and see how pissed she is at me.”

Taking a deep breath, I pick up the large bowl of orange I’d been stirring and check its consistency, wondering if it’s ready to fly. Using the whisk in my hand, I fling a little back and forth, admiring its texture and consistency. If I wasn’t planning on using it on a cake very shortly, I think it would make a terrific addition to Phil’s hair.

The door cracks open a bit, and I see Phil’s hand reach in tentatively waving the American flag he keeps on his desk. I can’t help it. I put the bowl on the counter, which I grab to hold myself up from the giggling. “Jesus, Phil.”

“I didn’t have time to run out and buy a white flag.” He and Em step into the kitchen.

If there were ever two people not dressed to be in my workspace, it’s these two particular siblings. Em, our family fashion plate, is wearing a sheer black knee-length dress with flowers etched onto the sheer fabric. With elbow-length sleeves, a wide V-neck, and a nude underlay, it plays off her blonde hair and blue eyes encased in red-rimmed glasses perfectly. This particular dress is one of Em’s own designs that can be made in any color. It’s a showstopper and a huge attention grabber in the summer for garden weddings. Having a version in chocolate brown, I can also attest that it looks terrific on many different figures.

Phil looks like he stepped out of the pages of GQ: trim charcoal slacks, deep plum slim-fit shirt, with his blond mane swept back from his forehead. Lighter blue eyes crinkle at the corners before he looks in the bowl. “Holy hell, Corinna. Are you making a potion in there? What the hell is going on that kid’s cake? Cough syrup?”

I grin. His thoughts mirror my own from earlier. “Here, taste.” I grab one of the spoons I keep on hand and dip just the tip in.

Phil looks like I’m about to slip him arsenic. Em, always the braver of the two, gamely leans forward. Opening her mouth, she allows me to slide the spoon inside before closing her deep red lips over it. “Oh God, that’s delicious. It tastes like…like…”

“Melted Creamsicles,” I finish for her. I nod over at the cake, three imperfectly smooth mounds covered in gray fondant, just like the rocks at Lake Mamanasco in Ridgefield. Inside, the cake is a deep, dark chocolate with a chocolate-orange creme filling.

“Yes!” Em exclaims. Her navy blue eyes tip at the corners as if she is predicting Phil’s reaction.

We don’t have long to wait.

Phil casually begins to stroll around my workspace, and I hold on to the bowl with all my might. There’s no way he’s catching me with my back turned. It took me almost a damn hour to get the icing to a consistency that will fly when I throw it. If I have to spend an extra hour making him a batch, I may hold him down so Cass can do her magic with the scissors she’s been threatening him with for years. “No, Phil. Not a chance.”

“Just a little taste,” he pleads. Sweet Christ, the man has a sweet tooth that rivals a three-year-old. You’d think he’d like salty more than sweet with the way he talks about sucking off his husband, but no. Every damn day, he’s down in my kitchen begging me for scraps like a lost puppy.

“I’m about to make you work for your treats,” I warn him.

He pauses. “That’s not a no. What’re your terms?”

“I need to tell the family something. I figure the family dinner Thursday works.”

Phil laughs. “So just announce it. Now, gimme.”

I hold out a hand to ward him off. “Phil, can it be just the six of us? No husbands? No significant others? No kids? No friends?” No Colby, I add silently.

The magnitude of what I’m asking for is so extraordinary, it causes both Phil and Em to drop their jaws.

Phil nods, just before he pulls the bowl of liquid icing from my arms and places it on the counter with a clatter. Some of it sloshes over the sides, and I frown. “Corinna, if you need to tell us something, just us, we’ll handle everyone else. Now, take that disgustingly dirty coat off and come give me a hug.”

Unbuttoning my chef’s coat, I let it drop to the messy floor behind me before I move into Phil’s arms. He clasps me so tightly, pulling my head against his neck.

I’m wondering how I’m going to hide the tears in my eyes and the bruise where my IV was when I pull away. I’ll worry more about that in a few minutes when I can let my brother go.

Right now, I cling to him like he’s the only thing in the world that’s real.