A Sweet Mess

by Jayci Lee

  “I’m so ridiculously happy,” Landon said, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “I feel ecstatic every time I think about the baby. Our child … I’m a fuckwad and don’t deserve her, but I need to bring my family home. I need it like my next breath. Nothing else matters.”

  “It’s going to take some work, considering the mess you’ve made, but I guess I’ve an idea or two to contribute to the worthy cause.”

  “Anything. I’ll do anything. I’ll go crazy if I don’t do something. Right now. I’ve been without her for over two months.” He hadn’t slept since he’d found the secret in the bottle, and he couldn’t sleep until he had Aubrey back in his arms. “Is there any chance one of your ideas will bring her home today?”

  “I have no plans to kidnap a pregnant woman, so no.” Aria’s voice softened as she continued. “Besides, you don’t even have a ‘home’ to bring her to. And you’re not ready, Landon.”

  She was right, of course. He was a wreck. If Aubrey saw him like this, she’d run screaming in the opposite direction. Landon swiped his hand down his face. “I need a shower, some food, and a few hours of sleep.”

  “Before you start pampering yourself, you need to slow down. This isn’t happening in a day.”

  “No?” he asked helplessly.

  “No, but you could get started today.” Aria paused as though waiting for him to say something. When he remained mute, she sighed. “What do you need to do before you could bring Aubrey home?”

  “Find a house.” Landon blinked as his brain creaked and squeaked to turn the rusty cogs. “A place she would want to make our home.”

  And he would find a location for his restaurant. Landon would not be a spectator in his life anymore. He would chase his dreams. All his dreams. For Aubrey. With Aubrey, he could do anything.

  23

  Landon tossed a white envelope on Craig’s desk and settled into a guest chair, legs stretched and ankles crossed.

  “Since when do you write on paper?” his editor said, gingerly picking up the envelope between his thumb and index finger. “If this is a resignation letter, I’m not going to bother opening it. It’s going straight to the shredder.”

  “How did you know?” The hair on his arms swept upright at his friend’s apparent clairvoyance. Landon didn’t want to abandon Craig or Cal Coast, but he couldn’t travel around the world to write reviews when he would soon have a kitchen to run.

  “Know what?” Craig asked, pulling out his letter and snapping it open. It only had three sentences. “What the fuck, Kim? Is this a resignation letter?”

  “Yes, but since you’ve already opened and read it, there’s no need for the shredder.” Landon laughed with nerves and relief. He’d pissed his friend off, but he’d taken a major step toward his dream.

  “Why the hell are you pulling this shit on me?”

  “Sometimes, Craig, it’s not all about you.” He smirked at the irate editor but continued solemnly, “This isn’t about me leaving Cal Coast. It’s about me opening my own restaurant. It’s about me being a chef and not a critic. It’s about me living my life again.”

  “It’s about damn time. I am so proud and happy for you.” Craig was on his feet and beside Landon in a flash, clapping his shoulder. “But goddamn it, I wish it didn’t mean losing you here.”

  “You know I can’t do both.”

  “Of course I know. But how am I going to find someone to fill your freakishly big shoes?”

  “How about Gary?”

  “Fuck you, Kim.”

  “Thanks.” Landon rubbed the back of his neck as some of his amusement died down. “Before I go, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Let me hear it. I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”

  “I want you to print my farewell article. In this month’s issue.”

  “The one coming out next week?”

  “Yes.”

  “The one that’s all but ready to print, and making any alterations at this point would be a huge pain in the ass?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sure. Consider it done.”

  “Thank you.” Landon stood and extended his hand to Craig. “You can sit at the chef’s table anytime.”

  * * *

  It was masochistic of her, but Aubrey let herself hang on to a tiny connection to Landon. Every month, she bought a copy of California Coast Monthly and read Landon’s review until she memorized it. Then she could hear his voice in her head when she recalled his words later. It probably wasn’t the healthiest hobby to indulge in, but she didn’t care because she needed it.

  This month’s issue featured everything fall. It was her favorite season. The changing colors, the scent of wood and smoke in the air, and the comfort food overload. More than anything, autumn was the season of love and family to her.

  She flipped through the magazine, skimming the recipes she wanted to come back to later, and looked for Landon’s section. A tremor of unease fleeted across her when she found it. His column lacked its customary background and enticing food photos. The layout was as elegant as ever, but the stark black, gray, and white of the page felt somber even before she registered the title.

  It’s Not Farewell

  by Landon Kim

  For the past decade, you, my readers, have been my confidantes, friends, and heroes. Every bite I took for California Coast Monthly and the blog, I ate imagining what you would think. How you would feel. I was never alone because you traveled with me. Everything I saw and experienced, I thought, Oh, the readers would love this or God, this would upset the readers. Every word I wrote, I wrote with you in mind. My reviews and articles were pieces of me I shared with you, praying it would fulfill your expectations. To laugh at culinary disasters, to find the silver lining in a bad meal that redeems the restaurant, and to dream of the endless deliciousness the world has to offer.

  Once. Only once. But still once. I failed you. I failed myself. And I nearly destroyed an amazing pastry chef’s dream. I almost stole the gift she had to offer you.

  Many of you might remember my article “The Pitfalls of Brilliance.” In it, I rip apart a baker after eating a bite of her cake. I’m not reneging on my impression of the cake. It was sincerely alarming. Gummy worms and peanut butter do not belong in a chocolate Bundt cake. Of course, there is a big but.

  But it didn’t matter what I thought about the cake, because it was meant for another customer. The unusual filling was the brainchild of a six-year-old birthday girl, and I’d eaten her cake. The server had given it to me by accident, an understandable mistake considering the cozy shop had been bursting at the seams with hungry customers.

  I discovered the real story behind the peculiar cake about a month after the issue was released, but I did nothing to correct my mistake. I refused to retract my review. My reasoning was that the cake I’d eaten shouldn’t have been foisted on an unsuspecting customer, and my reaction was honest. I also refused to go back to the bakery to write a second review based on a more comprehensive, thoughtful examination of a wider variety of menu items. I had my reputation to protect, and that mattered more to me than a hole-in-the-wall bakery.

  My ego, my arrogance, led me to give you, my readers, a superficial and incomplete review and almost pushed a small, overextended bakery out of business. That review was about me and my unfair judgment of the pastry chef. I did not experience the moment with you as I should have, and I did not write the review with you in mind.

  I apologize from the bottom of my heart, dear readers.

  I have always given you (except the fateful once) and give you now my complete honesty. Please take my opinion about the lovely bakery and its incredible chef with a grain of salt. While I meant every word I’ve written here, my opinion might be biased because I’m hopelessly in love with the pastry chef.

  This is the last article I write as a food critic and blogger for California Coast Monthly and any other publication for the foreseeable future. But this isn’t farewell. I am off to chase my dreams
. All that means is I’ll be seeing you from inside the kitchen, sharing more of myself with you.

  Thank you for the unforgettable memories.

  Aubrey stared at the pages long after she’d finished reading the words. I’m hopelessly in love with the pastry chef. Her brain shouted twelve questions at once, and she couldn’t focus on any of them. It was too loud. Her heart squeezed and twisted, and she was sobbing, but the cacophony of her thoughts wouldn’t quiet down for her to figure out why.

  I’m hopelessly in love with the pastry chef.

  24

  Aubrey sat on her love seat—the only chair she could get up from without struggling like an overturned turtle—not thinking about Landon’s latest article. She was indulging in her latest addiction—cookie butter. Tara’s brothers, Jack and Alex, brought it back from their trip to one of San Diego’s beer festivals, and she was completely hooked. It was the greatest culinary invention since ice cream.

  Humming a little happy tune, Aubrey dipped her spoon in the cookie butter to eat it right out of the jar, but before she could lick the sinful goodness, her doorbell rang. A primitive growl rumbled in her chest. This had better be important. No one should be allowed to interrupt a pregnant woman when she was eating her cookie butter unless it was something very, very important.

  “I’ve got it, baby.” Her mom hurried from the kitchen, smoothing down her apron. She lived in there and baked like she was making up for lost time. Her sweet buns were even better than Grandma’s.

  “I love you, Mom.” It wasn’t the cookie butter euphoria talking. Her mom was an incredible woman, and Aubrey was so lucky to be her daughter. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too.” Her mom’s eyes glittered. When a second, tentative knock sounded at the door, Linda smoothed out her apron again with a delicate sniff and opened the door.

  “Oh.” The visitor sounded surprised. “I’m here to see Aubrey.”

  “Um…” Her mom hesitated and glanced over her shoulder. “She’s indisposed at the moment.”

  “Could you tell her it’s Aria? I really need to see her.”

  Aubrey swallowed a mouthful of cookie butter without tasting it. Her mind’s screen saver lit up at the sound of Aria’s voice. I’m hopelessly in love with the pastry chef. She didn’t know what it meant, but it was a permanent installment in her brain museum. Do not ask me why I don’t understand those simple words. Just. Shut. Up.

  “Aria?” She heaved herself out of the chair and nodded toward her mom. “It’s okay.”

  Her mom stepped back to let their guest inside. Then Aubrey glanced at her six-month-old baby bump and snapped her head up to see Aria’s reaction. Even without her BUN IN THE OVEN T-shirt, there was no way of hiding her pregnancy.

  “I kind of gained some weight.” That was probably the stupidest sentence that ever came out of her mouth.

  Aria rolled her eyes and smiled. “Stop being ridiculous and give me a hug.”

  “Oh, Aria.” Aubrey hugged her tightly. She’d missed her vivacious friend so much. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “I missed you, too.” Aria squeezed her back, being careful not to crush Aubrey’s tummy. Stepping back, she placed a warm hand on Aubrey’s stomach. “How are you two doing?”

  “We’re doing well. Really well.”

  “Yes, you are.” Aria appraised Aubrey carefully. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

  “I’m huge.”

  “Please don’t get her started.” Her mom approached them with her hand outstretched. “Hi, I’m Linda, Aubrey’s mom.”

  “I’m Aria. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Linda.”

  After some niceties, her mom excused herself to give them privacy.

  “I can see where you got your looks. Your mom’s beautiful.”

  “Why are you here?” Aubrey blurted, her voice cracking with worry. “Is something wrong? Is he okay?”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s okay. He’s alive.” When Aubrey’s expression became overcast with worry, Aria reached out to hold her hand. “I’m here to chauffeur you to him. Even if it means I have to kidnap you.”

  “Why didn’t Landon come himself?”

  “He’s been assigned other important tasks. And I couldn’t trust him to drive safely with you in the car. He’s already a nervous wreck.” Aria raised an elegant brow at Aubrey. “Please don’t turn me into a pregnant-woman snatcher. Come with me?”

  “Right now?”

  “If you would be so kind.” She grasped Aubrey’s hands tightly, her eyes beseeching. “I’ll sing as many songs as you want on our drive.”

  Her friend’s words drew a watery laugh from Aubrey even though she was shivering with nerves. Landon didn’t want her. But what about his column? He’d said he loved her. He’d announced it to the world. She wasn’t a secret anymore.

  But why hadn’t he told her himself? Maybe the article was a calculated ploy on his part to protect his precious reputation. He hadn’t counted on her reading it.

  Then why was Aria here to take her to him?

  Okay, everyone shut up.

  Aubrey blew out a long breath. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t go. He would know she was pregnant the moment he saw her. She couldn’t risk trapping him, and herself, into a loveless relationship.

  “I can’t come with you. I don’t want to see him.”

  “I know it’s hard, but please listen to what he has to say.” Aria pulled her into her arms again. “He loves you … and the baby.”

  “He knows?” Blood pounded in her ears. He loves you. If that were true, he had a fucked-up way of showing it.

  “He found your message in a bottle.”

  Aubrey bit her lip and nodded for Aria to continue.

  “He is so very happy, darling.”

  “Is that why he wants to see me? Because of the baby?”

  “Oh, Aubrey, no. He’d been looking for a way back to you long before he found out about the baby. He loves you.”

  “That’s hard to believe.”

  Her mind’s screen saver lit up with neon brightness. I’m hopelessly in love with the pastry chef. It was a stupid article he couldn’t have known she would read. But she had to talk to him. The man had some explaining to do. Aubrey had a right to know why he’d broken her heart if he was hopelessly in love with her.

  She might not like what he had to say, but at least she could stop wondering. Stop hoping. Because no matter how hard she tried to play dumb, his article had made her hope, damn it.

  Even if he didn’t want her—she would seriously deck him if he didn’t want her after what he’d said in the article and sending Aria to kidnap her—she had her mom, Tara, and the baby. She wasn’t whole without Landon, but she would never be alone again.

  “This is crazy. I’m crazy.” At the very least, she could give herself closure. “I need to pee and let my mom know I’m going with you.”

  Her mom gave her a hard hug as though she were pouring her own strength into her and putting a protective layer on her so Aubrey wouldn’t get hurt. She hoped her mom’s magic worked.

  * * *

  Aria drove up to a lovely two-story house near the Kern River and parked in the driveway. Aubrey had been prepared for a long drive to either Santa Monica or Bosque Verde and was surprised to find herself only twenty minutes from Weldon.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” Aria asked, studying Aubrey’s face in the fading light.

  “Of course I’m not okay, you silly woman.” Aria meant well, but she couldn’t hope for a happy ending. “But I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t plan on plugging my ears to what he has to say.”

  “Good girl.” Aria reached out and squeezed one of Aubrey’s cold hands. “Okay, then. My work here’s done. It’s time for me to go home to my love.”

  After kissing Aria on the cheek, Aubrey stepped out of the car and watched the red Mercedes drive off. Although she’d put on a brave face, she had no idea what to expect from Landon. What if Aria was playing match
maker? Maybe Landon had never asked her to bring her here. Sure. That makes perfect sense. Her friend would totally abandon her at a strange house close to sunset. With no car.

  Aubrey growled and clamped down on her horror-prone imagination. Running away was a thing of the past for her. Straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, Aubrey turned to face the house. It reminded her so much of the schoolhouse that her heart stuttered wildly. But there was no point in wondering or hoping. If he’d loved her, he wouldn’t have broken her heart. He couldn’t have. It would have hurt him too much. More than it had hurt her.

  Confessing her love to him. Sharing her darkest insecurities with him. That had taken every last reserve of courage she’d had in her. Having her love slapped aside and her fears callously disregarded had caused her more pain than her mind had the capacity to grasp. Even then, walking away from Landon was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Witnessing his anguish as she’d left him had broken her tattered heart even more. Aubrey refused to be his secret—she was worth more than that, she deserved so much more—but she’d prayed with everything she had that he would stop hurting. Because she loved him. That was love.

  And if he regretted what happened that night in Bosque Verde, he would have owned his mistake and come for her far before this. She was here for closure. She marched two steps toward the house when her hands flew to her mouth to cover a gasp. He was standing at the top of the steps like a statue.

  Even in the fading light of the setting sun, her body recognized his tall, broad silhouette framed against the softly lit doorway. Anguish and longing shot through her. The force of her emotions made her hunch into herself, her arms instinctively coming around to cradle her stomach to shield the baby from harm when it was really the pain of Aubrey’s heart breaking all over again.

  Although her eyes were scrunched shut as she breathed through the pain, the sound of falling footsteps rang in her ear. Landon was running at breakneck speed to reach her.