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    Many people love red velvet cake, but they won't be able to tell you what it actually is. They'll tell you it's just red velvet flavour. That's the charm of the cake; it's like a secret – or at least, that's what Elliott used to tell me. The first time he told me he loved it, he told me it was his favourite because it's not a single flavour, and it hides things.

Looking back, it's a haunting thing because of what happened to him in the last two years of his life.

As I put the finishing touches to the cupcakes a few hours after arriving in the flat, Cameron walks into the kitchen. We got here and immediately I had the locks changed while I scoured the house. The ingredients for the cake were here, and I wonder if my subconscious could tell what would be happening. Cameron helped me change the bed sheets, I've gathered Courtney's clothes up and put them in black bags, along with her trinkets and just general shit.

"The famous Kenna cakes?" Cameron asks. "Red velvet."

I nod and fix the last of the salted pretzels on the top of the cupcakes. "The Elliott's Special."

He admires them with a small smile on his face. "He'd be so proud of you, you know."

I shrug. "When we got together, I researched red velvet cakes and learnt what they actually are to impress him. He told me once he loved them because the flavour is mysterious."

"What are they then?"

I take one from the rack and pass it to Cameron. He takes it and stares at it, waiting for my answer.

"Red velvet is a variant of the chocolate cake. A normal chocolate cake is made mainly using cocoa powder, and, in some cases, actual melted chocolate, while red velvet is only made with a small amount of cocoa and buttermilk which gives it that tangy flavour. It also uses a little vinegar to help it rise. The red colour of the cake is just red food colouring. It's denser and more crumbly than a chocolate cake because it has less fat," I explain.

"Huh, so it's just a less rich chocolate cake?" Cameron summarises.

"Well, basically. I find it fascinating, but then I always think that because Elliott called it the secret cake."

He laughs and takes a bite. When he tastes it, his eyes close. Is he doing that to make me feel better?

"This... this is amazing, Kenna. Fucking hell, are these your best seller?" Cameron asks.

I nod. "Yeah; initially I made them the special to raise money for charity on the side, and because I find myself loving to make them. Mainly because of Elliott, but they really take off. I've done massive versions for birthday cakes and a couple of wedding cake versions."

"I can tell why; this is heavenly."

A warm flush runs through me, and I quickly become too aware I'm now in my lounging clothes in front of him: tracksuit bottoms and a vest top. I didn't care when I got out of the wedding dress, but now he's looking at me properly, it's awkward. At least my makeup and hair are still the same from the wedding, I suppose.

"Thanks," I whisper.

"The news has a little mention of the wedding; photos of you walking towards the car, your dad in photos trying to use the phone. They don't know what's happened, but they're saying wedding in chaos and shit. It won't be long till they turn up here is my thought," Cameron says.

"She can't get in here now."

Cameron finishes his cupcake. "Does she have access to the bakery?"

I shake my head. "Only me and my assistant manager do. She wouldn't give the key to anyone other than me or she'd lose her job. How did the press find out about the wedding, anyway? And why the fuck do they care? Dad's the one they like."

Cameron shrugs as he grabs himself a can of coke from the fridge. "Gossip about the guy going to be party leader, right? Odds are on him winning, so he could be prime minister if he wins. People will care about gossip. Feed the campaign trail and all, right? It's all just rumours right now, anyway, but something about a guest going to the papers or whatever."

I groan and bite into a cupcake. It is good if I do say so myself. "I should feel bad about that, right? The potential of those photos getting to the papers and all. My sister."

"They won't publish that even if they're given it. If anything, they would just mention something like photos showing people cheating kinda thing. You have nothing to worry about, Kenna."

I shrug. "In a way, it is what it is. My plan is to keep my head down until we go on my honeymoon. Then I'm going to enjoy myself until I work out what the hell I'm going to do. Before the wedding, I was looking at a few places to expand the bakery across the country."

"Oh? Out of London?"

"Yeah, I had my eye on a few locations. There's money in the business to do one extra location for now. I just don't know where. Maybe I'll look into that. My mind was too far in with wedding planning to fully think about it. It was a thought."

"Talking of the bakery, I haven't seen it or been in it. You should show me."

I arch an eyebrow. "It's just a cake shop. Nothing fancy."

Cameron smiles. "Still, it's important to you, it's doing well, and now I've tried the special, I wouldn't mind seeing it."

"Sure, I can take you now if you want. It's a ten-minute drive. We have nothing much else to do; we're sitting ducks wherever we are. I could do with going in and checking how it is, anyway."

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    It's weird walking into the bakery and not smelling the usual hints of baking cake, coffee or various ingredients of the day. It looks dark and dreary and so bereft of life in here, but I know it's simply because it's been closed for a little over a week now, and will continue to be for a day or two more. The signs of Alice and Ryan being in here are here, though. They messaged earlier to say all was fine.

"Wow, this is amazing, Kenna," Cameron says as he takes it in.

I make a noise of slight amusement. "When I first bought it, I thought the same. Not to toot my own horn, but it's now getting too small."

I flick the lights on, and it comes to life. Sort of. They've put the chairs out, polished the place and the fridges are working so they're ready for tomorrow. The signs are up everywhere but no stock is left out; it looks weird.

I sit on a chair by the counter, wishing in a way it was like every other day: full of customers, me stressing to make sure there are enough cakes out, making more specials, probably taking an order or two for wedding cakes or whatever while the staff are out here taking money and serving people. The smell of every day is ghosting in my nose, teasing me that I've not come from home and I'm in makeup and hair from my failed wedding day this morning.

"The local news is eating this up by the way," I say. "Dad's popularity is going to go up because of this."

Cameron stops looking around and looks at me. "I think he'll care more about his child. Who even cares? You could go to the papers and tell them the truth, or just ignore it and go about your life."

"It's easy to say that, though, isn't it?" I grab a drink from the fridge. "Want one?"

He shakes his head. "No thanks. What do you mean?"

I sip my water before sighing. "It's easy to say and agree to ignore it. Easy to tell yourself that you're okay, that everything will one day just be good again. It's so easy to look okay on the outside while you're crumbling slowly apart day by day, minute by minute." I haven't been talking about my dad and we know it, but I know I need to turn it that way. "It's so easy to tell myself that it's just a cheating partner and there's plenty of fish in the sea. None of it is just that easy, though, is it?"

He says nothing.

I carry on after moving behind the counter so I can hide just a little bit. "One day it might be good again, but the hurt is still there from the past, no matter what you do. There are still scars because they never go away. Your life still changes from normal things. There's still shit like the flat there, there are still pieces of my life where she's still in it, and there's still the fact my dad is well known around there and though my wedding is nothing to do with politics, the local papers make everything about politics where he's concerned."

"I know it feels like your romantic life just ends badly, but shit won't be like this forever."

I don't quite know what to reply because he's trying to be comforting, but it also doesn't feel like the right thing to say. The problem is, there isn't a right thing to say right now.

Instead, I opt for another sip of my drink before walking out the back into the kitchen.

"Kenna—" He stops when I turn to face him. The kitchen out here is quite small, and it feels weird that he's out here. Cameron hasn't seen this side of my life before, and it feels in a way like both parts of my life – the before I fled and after – have merged.

"That was insensitive, and I'm sorry," he adds quietly.

I shrug. "It is what it is. You don't need to apologise—"

There's a hard knock at the shop's front door.

My brow furrows when it happens again.

"You expecting anyone?" Cameron asks.

My head shakes. "Nope. Probably a customer seeing the lights on. I'll go—" I put a foot forward, but Cameron stays still for a second so I'm in his personal space.

This is fucking awkward. He smells like the aftershave I've been smelling all afternoon and the coffees he hasn't stopped drinking all day. It almost makes me fall into his hold and never leave it. If I inhale it enough, I could probably bring back the memories his mere presence threatens to bring back, and maybe even like them.

Well, that's a lie. The whole point of me fleeing was to forget everything that happened, and the more I think of Elliott in every, little day things, the more I'm reminded of the stupid shit I fled. I could've easily taken the money and opened a shop in Bournemouth, lived in my hometown and got on with my life. I could've moved forward and chosen to ignore the stupid things I did and just been.

But I didn't. I chose to let the decisions I made, didn't make and the haunting awful things that happened eat me alive and fled. Had I not, I would never have met Courtney and wouldn't have gone through this stupid sequence of events. But I did, so instead of living with just the stupid thing I did by sleeping with Cameron and accepting it, I've now also got to accept the decisions I've made now and will make in the future. That's what life is all about, though, making decisions and moving on to the next one.

I know eventually I will have to talk to Cameron about those decisions back then, and I have to do those to be able to accept and move forward in life. But for now, it's too much.

"I, uh, can I get by?" I whisper.

He coughs awkwardly before moving out of my way. "Sorry."

I don't regard the moment before moving to the door of the bakery. I kept the closed sign up and the curtain on the door down, but whoever is out there continues knocking. I move the curtain ever so slightly and come almost face to face with my parents, Luke and Lily.

"What the fuck?" I demand. "The fuck is she doing here? What're you all doing here?"

"Let us in, Kenna. We need to talk," Dad demands.

I replace the curtain and turn to Cameron, who's now standing behind me.

"They're going to think we ran away to be together," I whisper.

He shrugs. "That's their choice to believe that. You can tell them we're not. But Lily's there and she owes you one big fucking explanation, huh?"

"I don't want one, I don't care about explanations."

"Tell her that. To an extent, she's still your sister. On the other hand, if you want to disown her, you can at least say you heard her out before doing it, you know?"

I sigh and nod. He's right; this has to be sorted and it's better to do it now. Courtney is someone I can just drop out of my life with a change of a lock. Lily is my sister, and whether I like it or not, I have to at least deal with her. Being the bigger person here would be hearing her out.

I can't really be the bigger person after what I did, I guess, but it is what it is. She did the worst thing here, not me.

"Okay. Here goes nothing, I guess." I unlock the door and let them in. 

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