Testing Recipes for Disaster (Emberwood #2)

Prologue- Gen

F all

I wished the tears I couldn’t keep at bay were from how happy I was for my friends. Sam and Jesse’s wedding was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. In reality, though, I was replaying my own wedding and how stupid I’d been to believe any of it. It was probably the wrong decision to come at all, but I hated the idea that I couldn’t support my friends because my own husband was a colossal asshole. Soon-to-be-ex-husband.

At least there’s an open bar.

The lavender gin fizz was purple and bubbly and made a lovely popping sensation over my tongue. The fact that this was my fourth one didn’t diminish its delightfulness.

“Is that actually good? It looks like Kool-Aid and Sprite.”

Danny had sauntered up next to me while I was leaning on a high-top table, watching other people dance. I side-eyed him, but all that accomplished was me noticing how well he cleaned up. He was in a light gray suit with his tattoos creeping up over his collar and across his neck, his jet-black hair pulled back.

“A little more of a kick than Purplesaurus Rex.”

“You sure? That shit got me wound up as a kid.”

“Everything gets you wound up, Vega.”

“It’s official. You’re far too comfortable around me now. I liked you better when you were timid and overly polite.” He lightly bumped me with his shoulder.

I almost snorted. He wasn’t wrong. I tended to err on the side of wallflower when I first met people. Which was why they were usually shocked when they found out that, in addition to teaching pre-school, I wrote romance novels. But then they were less shocked again to find out they were sweet and clean romance novels.

As long as no one ever downloads your e-reader history, you have safely cemented yourself as the girl-next-door.

I sighed, not quite knowing that I liked that distinction. Sometimes it felt like nice was my only personality trait, and lately, that wasn’t doing me any favors.

Maybe this is why Penn claims to have no idea who you are .

Because maybe I had no idea who I was.

“Sorry. You’ve opened the box. There’s no going back now.”

“I guess I’ll adjust. You wanna dance? This dress should see the dance floor, no?”

“You dance?” I asked, a little surprised. I swished my long dress without thinking, feeling it flutter against my legs. The night air was cool, but the warmth from the heaters all over the garden kept the chill at bay.

“I’m Latin, Gen. El ritmo está en mi sangre.”

“Okay. Let me think about that one a sec.”

I paused and replayed his words.

“The rhythm is in your...something.”

I’d made a New Years’ resolution last year to learn Spanish. It had been coming along slowly, at least until Penn blew up my life, but I was trying, anyway.

“That sounds vaguely suggestive, Gen. Is your husband okay with you harassing very attractive men in his absence?”

I winced physically at his words. I closed my eyes and took a breath, downing what was left of my drink.

“I don’t think he has an opinion one way or another.” I plastered what I was sure was an unconvincing smile on my face.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to step in something—”

“You’re fine. We can dance.”

I left my glass on the table and walked toward the speakers, willing the tears that had shown themselves to go back into hiding. The music switched from a fast-paced bop to a slow song the moment my foot hit the makeshift dance floor, and this was less than ideal. I supposed I didn’t need to feel weird about it. I was free to dance with whomever I wanted. But it did feel weird to dance with anyone but Penn.

Not that he has danced with you in years .

“We don’t have to dance, Gen,” Danny said, reading what was clearly written all over my face.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed his hands, placing them on my waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him steady me, the fourth drink hitting me in a wave. He wasn’t wrong, anyway. This dress had cost me half a paycheck, and it deserved to be seen at least once. It was a lovely periwinkle organza that floated just right around my hips to the ground.

Happily, I could also breathe, since for the first time in a long time, I’d left my tummy-flattening shapewear at home. Pretending I didn’t have a belly wasn’t worth the lack of oxygen.

“It was blood, by the way. The rhythm is in my blood. You almost had it.”

“Ah. That makes sense,” I murmured, relaxing into his shoulder. He smelled good, like something woodsy, and I breathed him in.

“In some cultures, it’s impolite to sniff someone while dancing.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I... I’ve probably had one too many gin thingies,” I mumbled, mortified. The world was slightly out of focus, and I was regretting my choices. I could feel my filter dissolving in my brain.

“Don’t worry. It’s not my culture. Just making conversation,” he added, tugging me slightly closer.

“You’re funny. I think I used to be funny.” We swayed in silence for a beat or five.

“Are you okay, Gen?” Danny asked, his voice thick with what felt like concern.

I swallowed hard because the truth was dangerously close to spilling out of my mouth.

“Oh, yeah. Fantastic.” I tried to hold it back. I really did. I blamed the pretty purple drinks.

“Penn is leaving me. He’s leaving me . Just to be clear about that. Because...well, that’s a story that would take longer than this song. But yeah, he filed for divorce last month. He hasn’t finished moving out yet, but he’ll be gone by the end of this weekend.”

To his credit, he kept us swaying to the music while he took in that trauma dump of a outburst.

“ Fuck ,” Danny murmured, his forehead now close to resting on mine. “I’m sorry. And I said...just shit. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. All my fault, apparently.”

“Yeah...” he started, clearly hesitating over what he was going to say next. “Uh, I’ve met the guy. I can guarantee you none of whatever is going on is your fault.”

He said it with such finality, his dark eyes stealing my breath, like there was no room for argument. I hiccupped something that felt like a sob trying to force its way out of my throat.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laid this on you. I shouldn’t even be here. I’m going to get a ride home. Enjoy the wedding, Danny.”

I pushed back from him, wobbling only a little, wondering who the hell I was going to get to take me home, but there had to be an option. All at once, I couldn’t breathe, and I just needed to get out of this dress and take my hair down. My whole head was throbbing.

“I got you. Let’s go.”

He linked his arm through mine and held it tightly, steadying me. My brain told me to argue, that it was rude to make him leave the party; that it was rude for me to be leaving the party. But I felt myself coming apart at the seams, and I desperately wanted to make it home before that happened. It felt like a sucker punch to realize that Penn would be at the house when I got there, and there would still be no reprieve from the tornado of anger and grief and fear, and did I mention anger, swirling around me.

Get it together .

I didn’t have the money to get a hotel room, or I would have done it in a heartbeat. My sister had offered me her guest room, and I’d taken it the past three weekends, but her house was too far for me to commute to work every day, so I was stuck in my house with him during the week, where everything I did was met with a snide remark or an eye roll, meaning I just hid in our... my... room anytime I had to be there.

I sighed heavily, almost letting it dissolve into something else, but I willed my emotions to get it together until I could lock myself in a closet and cry myself to sleep.

Danny’s car was only a short walk, and I sank into the passenger seat, wondering if I’d eventually wake up from my life and things would be normal again.