All the things #cherrypiecure (FINAL)

posted by susan-oh-susan / june 15 at 10:20 pm / uncategorized / 40 comments

I’m sorry for not writing!

I’m fine!

I’m better than fine! I’m just so busy with the baking and the store and the lawyer, and…

Ok, but of course I have to tell you. I want to tell you.

Ok, first, so nobody worries—the lawyer stuff is all routine and all in hand. She’s good. And John’s an ass, occasionally, but not evil.

He didn’t really want me—us—his safe, boring life back either. I’m not sure, to be honest, he wants Jewel anymore… but that’s most definitely NOT my problem.

Second, Marcella is in Georgia. I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you, because she’s acting like she’s twelve and it’s all a big secret, but we all knew she and Jerome were… anyway. She’s in Georgia. So I’m taking care of the store.

It’s a little terrifying. But I’m staying on top of it!

And I was even going to yoga every other day or so after work (no comments from you, Nika!). But that’s not really important, except that it meant that even on the nights when the store closed at five, I usually didn’t get home until eight-thirty, nine.

Which brings us to third…


Don’t be angry when you find out when it was—it was last week. June 7. Wednesday. I will always remember :). He says March 20, the day I gave him that Persian rice and fried fish dish, is our anniversary. But for me, it’s going to be June 7.

The store closed at 5 pm, but I went to yoga after. And it was about a quarter to nine that I pulled up into the driveway.

I saw him when I clicked open the garage.

He was sitting on the porch steps.

I sat in the car and I started to shake and hyperventilate and panic and I thought… of course, I immediately thought…and such joy, such crazy joy, but then, I second-guessed myself and I stepped out of the car in a cloud of anxiety.

I decided I was just going to say hi and take it from there.

I got out of the car.

He stood up as soon as he saw me.

He was holding… OMG, guys. He was holding a pie.

And I didn’t say anything. I just blubbered and burst into tears and I think I was about to turn around and run away so that he wouldn’t see me crying. Because I have some really weird behaviours!

“Soo-zaaahn, come here,” he said, and put the pie on the porch steps and reached for me, and I just folded into his arms, and crawled into that place on his neck where we met.

You know what I mean.

“You have a PhD in electrical engineering?” I snotted into it.

“Mmmm. Is that what you wanted to talk about, Sooo-zaaaahn?” he whispered into my ear.

“You made me pie?” I snotted again.

“It’s probably not very good,” he said. “I’m… I’ve been trying for a week. They kept on not turning out.”

“You kept me suffering for a week because you were learning to make pie?” I demanded.

“Did you suffer a lot, Soo-zaahn?” he asked. OMG, his voice just makes my toes melt.

I nodded into his neck.

“Good,” he said. “I suffered too.” And he held me tighter.

“I was perhaps—not, not perhaps, I was, I was rash and foolish and too proud,” he said after a long pause. “I should have let you explain. Immediately.” I wish I could—I wish you could hear how he said that. It was like—every word was hard to say. It was hard… to say he had been wrong.

But he was doing it.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

And it was like he said, “I love you.” Which he hadn’t said to me. Ever. Yet.

“When I saw you in that man’s arms, I went mad,” he said.

And it was like he said, “I love you madly, Susan, you are mine, and you are not allowed to think other men exist while you are mine.”

And then he actually said that. Like, word for word.

“I’m so sorry,” I started to say, but he closed my mouth. First with a hand. Then with a kiss.

“No,” he said. “You have done enough apologizing. My turn.”

And he kissed my eyes. Forehead. Cheeks. Nose. Ears. And with each kiss, he said, “I’m sorry.” But I was hearing, “I love you.” Until I realized, I wasn’t just hearing it. He was saying it.

And I think I lost all bones in that moment.

“I love you,” I said into his neck. His ear. His mouth.

“Soo-zaahn,” he said after a few minutes. “The rest of the apology requires the privacy of the bedroom.”

“But I want to eat your pie,” I teased.

He frowned. Then laughed.

“For breakfast,” he said.

We left it on the kitchen table.

But it was gone when we came down in the morning.

There was a note from Tyler:

“Thanks for the pie, Mom! It was a little different—did you not use sugar? But delish! Love you!

PS I guess we’re both allowed to have friends overnight? xoxo ;P Ty”

And then… I made omelettes.

And… well, the end.


40 comments on All the things:

sugar&spice76: You mean, the beginning, honey.

susan-oh-susan: You’re right, Sugar. The beginning. 🙂

FemmeFataleFun: Sigh. Swoon.

mommyshidinginthebathroom3: I am so happy for you! And my husband sends his love too.

ilikeherbooty-full: Ha. I told you it would work.

FemmeFataleFun: What?

ilikeherbooty-full: That’s between Susan and me. Let’s just say, I told her what an alpha male needs from his woman.

susan-oh-susan: I didn’t mind giving him that. And it was true.

ilikeherbooty-full: Men are dim. We need shit like that spelled out.

FemmeFataleFun: Wait, wait, wait—Jerome told you what to say to Reza? Your thing, at the intercom, all of that…That was Jerome?

susan-oh-susan: No. Most of that was me. But… there was, just one sentence.

FemmeFataleFun: Which one?

ilikeherbooty-full: My kind’s secret, the alpha male kin’s kryptonite. 😉 LOL. Keep on re-reading the blog posts, Femme, and maybe you’ll figure it out. Anyway. It worked, didn’t it, Susan?

susan-oh-susan: It worked. Thank you, Jerome. 🙂

BeautifulThingsEveryday: Bitch, I can’t believe you told them I’m in Georgia.

ilikeherbooty-full: Are you ashamed that you’re my girl, Cougar? Fuck, she’s gorgeous, people. But too skinny. And she can’t cook or bake worth shit. Susan, can you please send us some cherry pie? Extra lard in the crust, so I can curve up this skinny ass? I got Susan’s recipe! In the oven right now—I’m gonna bring some over tonight, J!

ilikeherbooty-full: Right on, A.

BeautifulThingsEveryday: Could you, for fuck’s sake, just call me Marcella?

ilikeherbooty-full: No. You’re my Cougar-Amazon and I adore you, and you came all the way to Georgia to see me because you adore me, and this is the way I tell you I love you. He totally adores you, Marcella. And he just said, “I love you.”

ilikeherbooty-full: I did no… Oh, I did.

BeautifulThingsEveryday: You did.

ilikeherbooty-full: Are you going to say it back?

BeautifulThingsEveryday: No.

ilikeherbooty-full: Fucking cunt.

BeautifulThingsEveryday: Fucking seriously?

ilikeherbooty-full: What? “It’s a beautiful and powerful word, and I claim it as my own.”

FemmeFataleFun: Now that you guys have a room, could you take it there, please?

ilikeherbooty-full: Come on, Marcella. Get off your phone and into my lap. We’re making Femme jealous.

FemmeFataleFun: A little. I might re-activate my on-line dating profile.

goddessofvictory: Oooh, text me if you’re doing that, I’m really good at setting those up. I’ll help you. Mama Susan, you have so much fun. I love you. We’ll see you at Christmas for sure, if not before, ok?

susan-oh-susan: Ok, not-daughter-in-law. Maybe I’ll convince Reza to bake you cherry pie.

goddessofvictory: No, no, I want the Susan original.

susan-oh-susan: LOL. Ok, love.

goddessofvictory: And Cody says… Cody, just post your own damn comment. I’m really happy for you, Mom. See you soon.

susan-oh-susan: ❤


Caspian00XO: Susan, Adele made me your cherry pie last night. And I asked her to marry me. And she’s making another pie to send to you tomorrow as a thank you. Plus, we’re expecting you in Georgia for the wedding, ok?

susan-oh-susan: I can’t wait, Caz. ❤




Thank you for reading Cherry Pie Cure by M. Jane Colette. If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review of it on GoodReads or on your favourite book retailer’s site–or, buying the book in either digital or paper format (links below).

And if you’d like to join M. Jane Colette’s cyber-tribe, go here:


You’ll receive love letters, presents, and, of course, Susan’s magical, beyond-delicious and entirely un-metaphoric and un-digital (also, totally non-fattening ;P ) cherry pie recipe.

But, probably no sex toys. That is, not until FemmeFataleFun gets her own book.


(including fabulous paper)

PS A Want to read it again? Table of Contents of the Cherry Pie Cure/Susan’s Writing Cure Blog posts can be found at the Cherry Pie Cure landing page.

About mjanecolette

Writer. Reader. Angster. Reformed Bohemian (not). Author of the erotic romance TELL ME, the erotic tragedy (with a happy ending) CONSEQUENCES (of defensive adultery), the award-winning rom-com (she's versatile) CHERRY PIE CURE, and TEXT ME, CUPID--a (slightly dirty) love story for 21st century adults who don't believe in love... but want it anyway. A sought-after speaker and presenter, Colette is also the author of the Dirty Writing Secrets Series, which includes the non-fiction collection of essays ROUGH DRAFT CONFESSIONS: not a guide to writing and selling erotica and romance but full of inside inside anyway, 101 FLIRTY WRITING PROMPTS TO SEDUCE YOUR MUSE, and ORGANIZED CREATIVE. She's also the curator of the fab YYC Queer Writers anthologies Queer Christmas in Cowtown, Screw Chocolate, and A Queer Summer Night's in Cowtown. Releasing Spring 2020: CUPID IN MONTE CARLO.


  1. Pingback: Cherry Pie Cure–the real time Blog Edition | m jane colette

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