Part 1The Canary Who Became Doctor

The day Sebastian Cross finally let me go, he promised to grant me one wish.

I didn’t ask for the diamonds or the portfolio of stocks he expected. I asked for a slice of buttercream cake.

The love my own family was too bankrupt to give me, my benefactor had provided in spades.

After I finish this birthday cake, I’ll have no regrets left.

He wants to build a home with the one that got away.

And me? It’s time I walked my own path.

* * *

This was the first time Sebastian had ever spent New Year’s Eve with me.

On the stove, a pot of lobster bisque bubbled, filling the kitchen with a rich, savory steam.

The man placed the final dish—sautéed kale with garlic—on the marble island, untied his apron, and called me over to eat.

His voice was like aged whiskey, smooth and low.

Sebastian comes from old money—Boston Brahmins on his father’s side. Strictly speaking, he’s only a quarter Chinese, a heritage he rarely acknowledges. He prefers medium-rare steaks and vintage Pinot Noir.

Today, perhaps as a parting kindness, the table was filled with the comfort foods I loved, including dumplings he’d folded himself, clumsy but earnest.

When I was a child, my parents would take me to McDonald’s to keep me happy right before they tried to abandon me at a rest stop.

So when Sebastian finally said the words—You should go—I wasn’t surprised.

Happiness, after all, always comes with a price tag.

"What do you want, Hazel?" Sebastian stirred his bisque, looking bored, as if discussing the chance of rain. "Gold? A property deed? Diamonds?"

Elegant, aristocratic men like him always discard their canaries in the most dignified way possible.

The bisque had a kick of ginger in it; it burned pleasantly going down.

I lowered my eyes for a moment, then told him. "I want a cake."

He paused. "That's it?"

Yes. That's it.

A sponge cake with layers of fresh fruit and buttercream, topped with chocolate shavings. The kind my little brother got every single year, and I never tasted once.

"Hazel, think this through before you answer. I don't want us to have any messy entanglements later." He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. "Madeleine is... insecure. I need a clean break."

How could there be entanglements?

Sebastian had been good to me. He gave me money. He gave me a semblance of love. He filled the hollow spaces my parents had carved out of me.

Once I eat this cake, we’re square.

If he wants to give his lost love a home, I won't stand in the doorway.