Six months later, we’re back in my bakery—and it’s packed to capacity for the hottest party in town. The launch of Charlie Stone’s hot new solo album.

“Thanks for coming out,” he greets another wave of people. “I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for this lovely lady,” Charlie says, tapping my shoulder.

“Wait, what?” I pause, with a tray full of cakes.

“You know.” He turns that rakish grin on me. “If you hadn’t gotten Drew making new future plans, I’d be out touring the same old, same old dregs of the past right now, instead of here celebrating the launch of a totally new musical direction. Not to mention, I literally wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t offered your bakery for the launch party.” He gives me a sly wink and turns back to the execs. “Never underestimate the power of a beautiful woman or a delicious cupcake!”

They chuckle obligingly, and I take the opportunity to escape. Across the crowded room, Drew glances over and catches my eye. I roll mine briefly heavenward, and he smiles. And just like that, I don’t really care about Charlie framing me as some kind of Yoko Ono. Even after months together, Drew’s smiles can cure just about anything.

And we are both happy for Charlie. Even if I can’t say I totally understand what all the buzz is about his debut solo album. According to Drew it’s some sort of new-wave trance fusion? Mostly it sounds like bouncy electronic sounds intercut with occasional rasping lines from Charlie, but hey, my business is cakes, not music. What matters is that he’s happy—and Drew is totally guilt-free about passing on that big Cat-5 reunion.

Lulu finds me in the crowd. “Happening party, sis.” She’s swaying along with the beat, looking like she’s totally into the tracks.

“I’m not sure how much credit I can take for that,” I say. But looking around the shop, a sense of satisfaction settles over me. The guests gobbled up all the non-phallic but still alcoholic desserts I whipped up for this occasion. It’s a good thing the evening is winding down, because there’s hardly more than crumbs left on most of the trays. I’ve had six people ask me for a business card and say they’ll be in touch about one event or another.

I let them know they’ll need to get their name in ASAP. Between my reality-show cake fame and the extra buzz from that sex toy store opening, I’ve been booked solid with orders months in advance since I hung out my shingle.

Finally, after midnight, the party winds down. The guests start to drift out the door, off to whatever after-party is in the works. Charlie bounds over to shake my hand. “Thanks again, babe,” he grins. “You’re the best.”

“No problem.” The minute he leaves, I shut off the music. Ahhh, better. I head to the kitchen with a stack of trays and find Lulu standing in front of the door.

“I’ll take those,” she says, holding out her hands. “You go sit down.”

“It’s my shop,” I say. “I can handle at least some of the cleanup.”

She shakes her head. “No kitchen duty for you. Drew’s taking care of everything. You’re under strict orders to take it easy.”

Ah, so that’s where my man disappeared to. I thought he’d just ducked out to the studio or the loft for a moment.

Our loft. It still gives me a little tingle, thinking that. After six months of me spending practically every day over there anyway, keeping the little studio apartment five blocks over any longer seemed kind of silly.

Lulu’s explanation doesn’t sit quite right, though. Or maybe it’s just that she’s never been one to help with cleanup. I give her a pointed look. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She waves me off. “Just sit. I’m sure he’ll be finished soon.”

Yeah, that doesn’t sound shady at all. I wrinkle my nose at her, but I obey. It is kind of nice to get off my feet and sink into one of the chairs by the shop’s small tables.

I’m about to go over and see what I can dig out of my sister when Drew emerges from the kitchen—with a cake platter. He heads over to my table and sets it down with a flourish. I raise my eyebrows at him, enjoying the view as always. Tonight, he’s in a white button-down and jeans—with a smudge of something that looks like frosting at the collar.

“Were you baking in there?” I grin in disbelief.

“I made a valiant effort,” he says. “Every now and then, you deserve to be the one being treated. Just for you . . .”

He whips off the lid. I start laughing. He’s constructed one of my cock cakes, a near-perfect match for the one that prompted our meeting way back after Becky’s engagement party disaster. The icing turned out a little more mauve than peach, and the coconut flakes aren’t particularly even, but it’s an awfully good showing for a first try.

Then my gaze catches on an embellishment that isn’t a standard part of my version. At the tip of the dick, embedded in the icing like a piercing, a diamond ring gleams.

I stop laughing, losing my breath. “Drew?”

He’s already dropping down on one knee. My heart races so eagerly it’s almost painful, but in the best possible way. He takes my hand, his eyes fixed on mine. “I was going to serenade you, but I figured I’d spare us both that embarrassment.” Drew gives me a bashful grin. “And besides, my Mr. Right-Now days are behind me . . . because of you. I can’t imagine a future without you in it . . . and I can’t wait for it, either. Maggie Hayes, will you let me be your Mr. Forever?”

I laugh again, but it’s choked with happiness at the same time.

“Are you kidding me?” I smile through the tears. “Yes! Forever and ever. Let’s do this.”

He slips the ring on my finger, and kisses me like we have all the time in the world. And I swear, life has never been sweeter.