Page 151 of Offside Rules

I press his name and call again.

Straight to voicemail.

His voice fills my ear, and somehow just the sound of his voice soothes me a little. I close my eyes before ending the call. I’ve already left a message. He doesn’t need six more waiting when he turns his phone on.

I just want him to call me as soon as he gets out of surgery.

"Still off?" Ellie asks.

"Yeah."

"Kendall said she’d let you know when she hears something."

"I know."

"She will, Baylor."

I put the phone down.

"I just hate waiting."

Her expression softens, and I look back at the fondant before she can come around the table and hug me. I won’t get anything done if she does.

I roll the next piece out, check the thickness, and cut another circle.

His dad will be there when he wakes up.

That should help. He’ll have the person he calls when Sprinkles won’t start, the person who knows how to get an answer out of him when he’s being stubborn.

I wish I had his dad’s number.

I wish I’d asked for it when Wolf told me about the heart attack. Or when we talked about Boston in bed. Or any of the dozen times I stood in his kitchen while he was on the phone with him.

At the time, getting his dad’s number would’ve felt like assuming too much. Now I’m considering how many auto shops there could possibly be in Boston. Probably more than I have time to call with one thousand cupcakes and cake pops to bake and decorate.

I lift the stamp carefully. This time the circle turns out fine.

I set it beside the others and pick up the brush for the edible glitter.

I’m glad his dad is there. I’m glad somebody who loves him will be waiting when he wakes up.

I told him he was worth choosing. He still told me to build my shop, as though I couldn’t want that and him at the same time.

I press the brush into the glitter harder than I mean to, then set it down before I ruin another decoration.

Ellie checks the back door when someone knocks, leaving it closed until she’s looked through the glass.

It’s a delivery.

She lets the driver in, signs for the boxes, then locks up behind him.

"You don’t have to keep doing that," I tell her when she comes back.

"Yes, I do. Beau is the type to just show up."

"He might not come."

She rolls her eyes."He’s called you four times since you got here. But don’t worry, he’s not getting through me if he tries to show up to talk to you."