Hello, It's Me Page #3

And of course with my job,

I'm pretty much free to travel anywhere.

- Hmm.

- Just like you.

Good to know. Yeah.

Oh, oh...

- Can you hold this for a sec?

- Okay.

Just a little higher.

Perfect.

(CAMERA CLICKS)

If I don't post every few

minutes people think I'm dead.

- Oh. (LAUGHS)

- (CHUCKLES)

- That's funny.

- Yeah.

Yeah.

Oh, look, um, there's a friend of mine,

Nate, from Princeton.

I should probably

go talk to him.

Sorry, it was nice meeting you.

Okay, bye.

Excuse me. Gotta go.

I'm so sorry.

What are we going

to do for desserts?

You'll figure out something.

I don't know.

Annie, being creative,

improvising,

- that used to be your calling card.

- (SIGHS)

Come on.

The pantry's right here.

Think of this as a chance

to make something new.

- Expand the menu.

- What menu?

For your bakery, of course.

Ericka, I told you,

that's not going to happen.

Not anymore.

(SIGHS) Annie.

Well, this pantry

is practically empty.

What does this guy do,

eat every meal at a restaurant?

JAMES:
Yes. Actually, he

does.

Wait. This was the party

you were coming to?

Those pastries

were for this party. Yes.

Yes.

Before they became gourmet,

intricately-decorated roadkill.

And I'm so sorry

about that. Really.

But I'm not sorry that I get

a chance to see you again,

so I can say sorry, again.

So, um...

- Sorry?

- Sorry.

Yes. (CHUCKLES)

Oh, and um...

(CLEARS THROAT)

- Yeah.

- No. Nice try.

Really?

Oh.

This one's okay.

Yes. That's one

of the few survivors.

Might as well take a bite,

see what you missed.

- Really?

- Hmm.

Okay.

- Mmm.

- See, don't you feel terrible now?

(MOANING)

I really do.

Wow. Your son was right.

This is the best cookie

I've ever had.

I'm going to keep

all of these for myself.

Even the ones with the

gravel.

Mmm, fiber.

I'm sorry, but they're

not yours to keep.

They belong to the guy

whose party this is.

James Braddock III,

which sounds like a made-up

TV name, but whatever.

Really?

Um, Annie...

It's a real name.

It's my name.

My house, my kitchen,

my empty pantry.

Why didn't you say

something?

I just walked in.

Why didn't you say

something?

You didn't ask.

(JAMES CHUCKLES)

Okay, so now that

you know who I am,

and you're still not gonna

let me pay for the cab,

would you at least let

me pay for the pastries?

No, it feels like pity

money.

Pity money?

It's not pity money.

I want them, they're amazing,

broken ones and all.

I know you're not

really going to eat them.

And why would that be?

Because you probably have

a personal trainer

who won't let you get

within 10 feet of a carb.

I love carbs.

And gluten!

Shh!

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