Callan’s POV
‘I think we need at least three tiers for the cake’ my mother is murmuring as I lounge in an uncomfortably spindly chair, sandwiched between her and Elizabeth as the older woman pours over a book of wedding cake designs at this ridiculously tiny shop that supposedly only caters to the elite.
‘Whatever you think Mrs Hownell’ Elizabeth breathes shyly, peeking up at my mother demurely as I try not to roll my eyes.
‘Oh you don’t need to call me Mrs Hownell’ my mother tells her reproachfully, ‘we’re going to be family dear! You can call me Natalie, or Mom’ she adds with a giggle.
‘OK . . Mom’ Elizabeth whispers shyly, and I have to jump up to stop myself from saying something as anger washes through me.
‘Where are you going Callan, we haven’t picked the cake yet’ my mother adm
