JADE

I lay on my couch, my cheeks stained with tears. Olivia stood in my open-plan kitchen, baking up a storm. She’d come over after I hadn’t

taken any of her calls or replied to her texts.

“You should have told me,” she said. “I started getting worried when you didn’t come on Wednesday like you usually do.”

She took a baking sheet of sugar cookies out of the oven and put it on the stove to cool before putting the cake batter in round tins into the ...