I know.

Ten

🎵"Yeah, I almost lost it all and you didn't even call, I lay in that hospital bed

Thinking, "How dare you, how dare you ever say we were friends?"I thought you might've still care, but guess notIf you couldn't show up for me thenThen how dare you, how dare you ever say we were friends?"🎵

There was another knock at the door and I scowled, dumping the cloth down onto the side and checking the time left on my timer, ticking down. 20 seconds. Argh. I wasn't risking tomorrows stock over baking so whoever it was would have to wait. The timer beeped when another knock sounded, interrupting my song again. I put the cupcake tray on the kitchen side. Grumbling to myself about patience as I walked through the house. Taking a deep breath as I reached the door.

🎵"When they told me that I could've dieThe first thing that crossed my mind wasMaybe you'd apologize after all this time, how naïve was I?To think you ever really cared and If I needed you, you'd be there, cause I spent six months confused and scaredSitting by the phone screaming, "Don't you dare","🎵

Hmph. Fitting song.

"What?"

"Now who's giving the arsey opening to a conversation?"

"I'm trying to sort something for work. What do you want Griffin?" He looked back into the house then back down at me.

"What you doing?"

"Baking."

"For work?" He raised an eyebrow and I laughed.

"Okay, I'm done. Have a nice night-" I pushed the door to shut it but the giant glute put his foot in the way so I couldn't. "You really have no idea do you?"

"Let me in."

"No."

"Fine, I'll call August to come let me in." I rolled my eyes. "Or you can be a polite Christian and welcome me into your home." I hate him. Actually, hate him. I stepped back, pulling the door open for him dramatically, letting him bring that smug smile in with him. I pushed the door closed, walking back to the kitchen to carry on what I was doing.

I carefully pulled the cupcakes out of the tin, taking the next batch and putting it in, setting the timer for the exact amount of time I'd found was best. Down to the seconds. It had to be that precise.

"You baking for your colleagues?" I rolled my eyes, checking over each of the ones I'd brought out, making sure they reached my high standards on size and colour. Only one failure in a batch was pretty good going. I singled it out, pushing it across the counter to where he was sat and writing down the number I was happy with in my book. "Does that say you've made 50 of these?"

"Yep."

"Who needs this many cupcakes?" He chuckled and I looked up at him, tilting my head.

"You're joking right?"

"About what?"

"Do you know what I do? Where I work?"

"Somewhere they need a lot of cupcakes apparently."

"God you're even more self-absorbed than I thought."

"That was uncalled for."

"I own the bakery in town. Have done for 4 years. You've been in. My face is in a big logo on the wall. Definitely not uncalled for."

"Sorry." Wait.

"Did the word 'sorry' just come out of your mouth? Or am I losing it?"

"God you're so dramatic. I come over here to sort things out with you and you can't even accept an apology over me not knowing where someone works."