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Why?”
    â€œBecause she’s my best friend,” her mom said. “And because I wanted to know what was going on.”
    Gigi sniffed. “What did she say?”
    â€œThat Finley was spending the night at someone else’s house tonight.”
    Gigi nodded.
    â€œBut I figure there has to be something else going on too,” her mother continued. “After all, it’s not like you girls haven’t had sleepovers with other friends before.”
    This was true.
    â€œBut . . . we always know about that stuff ahead of time. It’s not, like, a secret when Finn goes to Katie’s house, or when I spend the day with Kendall or whatever. This felt like, I don’t know . . . hidden or something.”
    â€œFair enough,” her mom said. “So what do you think would help this situation?”
    Gigi shrugged. “Pizza?”
    â€œI meant with Finley.”
    She thought about her mother’s question. She was pretty sure her mom had an answer already in mind. “Maybe you could save us both some time and tell me what you think I should do.”
    Her mom laughed. “Okay. I’m thinking that you need to put all of this out of your head tonight. We’ll watch a movie, eat some pizza, bake some cupcakes. Then, tomorrow, you can let Finn know—nicely, of course—how you feel. I’d bet you anything that Finleyhas no idea that her actions would upset you, especially not this much.”
    Gigi wasn’t entirely sure, but her mom was right about one thing: she couldn’t resolve anything without talking to Finn.
    â€œVanilla almond,” she said finally.
    â€œWhat was that?”
    â€œFor the cupcakes,” Gigi said. “I think vanilla almond would go really well with the anise-flavored fondant. Like those cookies we get at the Italian festival.”
    Her mother smiled. “Vanilla almond. Sounds like a plan.”

CHAPTER 5
    The next morning, Gigi’s alarm went off at exactly 5:15 a.m. She shut it off without hitting the snooze button, even though she really wanted to go back to sleep.
    Sunday morning before sunrise? No thank you.
    Only she didn’t have much of a choice—not if she wanted to surprise her mom with breakfast in bed. Both of her parents were early risers, even on the weekends. Not because they had to be, but because they genuinely liked getting up before the crack of dawn.
    â€œMaximize your mornings,” her dad always said. “Most people are at their best before eleven a.m.”
    When it came to her mother, productivity didn’t seem to be a factor. “I just find it really peaceful,” she’d say, holding a steaming mug of mint tea between her hands. “These are my moments of Zen.”
    Gigi rubbed at her hot, tired eyes and told herself to rally. There was sausage to be sizzled and French toastto be flipped. She wondered if they had any oranges left that she could use for fresh-squeezed juice.
    The kitchen was where Gigi found her own Zen. It almost didn’t matter what she was making; putting on her chef’s coat immediately put her into the zone. She had a feeling that Miranda felt the same way, if how she acted in class was any indication.
    Gigi finished off a fat stack of blueberry French toast by grating a little lemon zest on top. Her breakfast looked like something out of a magazine. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her mother’s face. She was in the zone, all right—so much so that she didn’t even hear her mother enter the room.
    â€œAren’t you a sweetie,” her mom said, startling Gigi so much that she let out a horror-movie scream. The zester went flying behind her, smacking into the kitchen window with a loud crack .
    â€œHoly wow, Mama!” Gigi exclaimed. “You scared me!”
    â€œSorry,” she said. “I keep forgetting how quiet it is with just the two of us here.”
    Gigi pulled out two plates from the cabinet and