Memorizing Baking Rules

After that night, Larry retreated into deeper silence.

Three days later, he still took me to city hall. The blinding sunlight made it hard to keep my eyes open. Outside the county clerk’s office, people came and went, every face lit with a happy smile—only we were out of sync with all that joy.

“Well, well. Getting divorced, Larry?” Someone recognized him, tone thick with gleeful malice.

“Can you blame him? Who’d want to be stuck with a fool like her?”

“He was so impressive back in the day… what a shame.”

Whispers buzzed around us like gnats. Larry stood rigid, his back unyielding, but his white-knuckled grip betrayed the turmoil inside. Ignoring them all, he simply took my hand and walked straight in.

The process was quick. So quick I barely had time to think.

Only when the clerk handed over the two red divorce certificates did it hit me—Larry and I were really over.

I grabbed onto him, refusing to let go, tears dripping down my face. He pried my fingers away, one by one, without a trace of emotion.

“Olivia, be good,” he said, giving me one last, unreadable look. “Take care of yourself from now on.”

Then he turned and left without a backward glance.

I chased after him just in time to see him slide into a black Bentley. The window rolled down, and Margaret’s triumphant face flashed past before the car sped off, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.

I stood there, abandoned and utterly lost. The world had narrowed to this patch of concrete, and I had nowhere on it to belong.

A car pulled up beside me. A woman in a black trench coat and sunglasses stepped out—tall, slender, with an air of cool detachment. She walked over, removed her sunglasses, and revealed eyes that looked a little like mine.

“Olivia?” Her voice was soft.

I stared blankly.

She sighed, pulled a slip of paper from her bag, and pressed it into my palm. “I know you don’t understand right now. But remember this: if you’re ever in danger, call this number.”

After a long, searching look—as if she wanted to say more—she simply turned and left.

I clutched that slip of paper like a last lifeline.

For hours I wandered the streets, until night fell, when instinct finally led me back to the basement.

The door was unlocked.

Larry was there. He hadn’t turned on the lights, just sat alone in the dark, the ember of his cigarette glowing and fading between his fingers. Seeing me, he stubbed it out and stood.

“Come with me.”

I didn’t know where he was taking me. I just followed numbly.

The car sped along until it stopped in front of a brightly lit hillside villa. Margaret stood in the doorway to greet us, wearing a sleek silk nightgown. She linked her arm through Larry’s and gave me a taunting smile.

“Olivia, welcome to my home.”

That’s when I understood: Larry’s “come with me” hadn’t been a rescue. He’d just moved me from one hell to another.

“Larry, you must be tired. I drew you a bath,” Margaret cooed, sickly sweet.

But Larry calmly withdrew his arm and pointed at me. “Get her a room.”

Margaret’s face darkened. “Larry, what’s this? We had an agreement.”

“I said I wanted the house and the money,” Larry replied, his voice ice. “And I said she stays with me.”

“You!” Margaret was too furious to speak.

“Or the deal’s off.” With that, Larry headed upstairs.

Margaret watched him go, her eyes venomous. Then she turned to me, her gaze sharp as a poisoned blade.

“Olivia, you just can’t stay gone, can you?” she sneered, taking slow steps toward me. “But that’s fine. We’ve got plenty of time. We’ll… take it slow.”