That’s when I walked out.
“This isn’t right,” I said, and my voice came out calmer than I felt. “You agreed to pay her. Out loud. In front of me, actually.”
“Stop acting poor,”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “It’s a cake.”
“It’s days of hard work and the expense of buying the ingredients.”
“Please.” She turned to the men she’d brought to carry it, pointed at the tiers, and said, “Careful with the top.”
Not a glance back at Grandma.
And then they were gone, and the house was quiet, and the front door clicked shut.
“It’s a CAKE.”
I wanted to drive straight to the venue and drag that cake back by its ribbon. I had my keys in my hand.
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