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is. And you’re his son and he loves your music. Silly. I’d wager the wedding will be filled with musician types so I bet you could do one of those cool jams they have at the end of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame events. That would be epic.”
    He gasped, which only made Jules smile bigger. “Dude. That would be . . . oh my god. Hey, Mum, Jules is on the phone. I have to think about this more. Jules, you’re brilliant.”
    And with that he was gone.
    Gillian’s voice still held a laugh when she took over. “Are you bringing me cake tonight?”
    Gillian was damned good at that stuff. Must be the mother thing. “How did you know?” She’d spent some time early that afternoon putting together cake samples for Gillian and Adrian. They’d asked her to make the cake for their upcoming July wedding. Jules had been touched beyond measure that they’d trust her with something so important and she’d insisted to Gillian and Adrian both that it was far over her head and she’d never made a big wedding cake before.
    Gillian had waved it away, told her no one was better suited to make the cake for their big day and to suck it up and do it.
    So Jules did. She’d spent the time since they’d asked working on different recipes. Perfecting until she’d decided on several she felt fit them both well and tasted really awesome. Gillian was her best friend and if she did say so herself, her cake repertoire had really come a long way.
    “I didn’t know! That was all hope and bluster. But yay, cake! Come over now. Adrian is on his way back from Seattle and he says he’s bringing takeout. I’ll call him to say you’re coming for dinner. He’ll hurry if he knows cake is involved.”
    “You only want me for my cake, Gillian. This makes me sad.”
    “It’s really good cake. Come over.”
    “All right, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Need anything else?”
    “Just your pretty face. And the cake.”
    •   •   •
    Gillian’s house, well, the one she lived in temporarily until the renovations were finished on the new house anyway, was a place Jules always gravitated to. The front windows were ablaze with light and as she moved up the walk she caught sight of Miles, a cat in his arms, walking through the room.
    Gillian would close the curtains soon, Jules knew. Now that it was common knowledge that Adrian Brown was Miles’s father and that he and Gillian were getting married, photographers made their way out to Bainbridge Island from time to time to try to grab pictures. One had even set himself up in a tree across the road. Of course he fell from his perch and broke his ankle in the fall.
    Gillian was a far nicer person than Jules because she called an ambulance. Jules would have turned the hose on him and made him crawl his worthless butt away.
    Still smiling and feeling a little vicious, she knocked on the door. The year before she’d have sailed right in. But those days were long past, also the product of the higher profile she had now that Gillian was going to marry someone famous. The doors were always locked up tight now.
    Gillian opened the door and pulled her into a hug. “Come in. Adrian just got home.”
    Jules put her bags down in the kitchen, out of the way of traffic and above normal cat inspection.
    Still, Claypool came out and meowed at her in his scratchy old-guy voice so she knelt and gave him a scritch under the chin where he liked it best. “Hey, old man, looking good today.”
    The cat purred at her, turned, rubbed his side along her knees and sauntered away.
    “Story of my life. Get some lovin’ and you all leave afterward.” Jules stood and washed her hands.
    Adrian Brown, ridiculously gorgeous and equally ridiculously in love with Gillian, strolled into the kitchen, pausing to plant a kiss on Jules’s cheek. “I got extra pad thai for you.”
    “You come in handy. Thanks.”
    “Do we have to wait until after dinner to eat the cake?” Miles poured juice into the glasses before he