Beautifully Baked: A Sweet Romantic Comedy

by Holly Kerr

  The cry turns into a wail and I pick him up. “You hungry, buddy? Want something to eat?” With an apologetic glance at M.K., I carry him into the kitchen and warm a bottle.

  “You’re good with him,” she says as she watches Theo take the bottle with a grunt of gusto.

  “I’m as surprised as you are.” I laugh. The kitchen is quiet save for Theo’s slurping. “What do you think?” I finally ask.

  M.K. takes a deep breath. “I think I’ve never wanted kids, let alone someone else’s,” she says sadly.

  “M.K.,” I plead.

  She holds up her hand. “He’s very cute, and I’m sure he’s sweet, but he’s still your baby with another woman. I think I’m going to need some time with this.”

  And then she leaves.

  Chapter Seventeen

  M.K.

  Clay has a son.

  The words reverberate in my head as I drive home. I regret walking out of Clay’s as soon I do it, but I didn’t have another option. His news shocked me more than anything ever had.

  More than Ben’s infidelity.

  Because of everything going on, I almost forget Flora and I had planned to get together that night. Luckily, I remember in time and suggests she come to my place instead.

  “Smells good in here,” she says cheerfully as I let her in. “Smells like—bacon?”

  “Bacon maple muffins.” I lead her into the kitchen where the fruits of my labour are cooling on the rack, topped with a crumb topping and maple drizzle. “Try one.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” She sets the brown paper LCBO bag on the counter before grabbing the muffin, sniffing it appreciatively. “So what’s going on? Obsessive baking is usually a sign of something gone wrong, and last time I checked, things were going right with you and Clay.”

  I pull the bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape out of the bag with a rueful smile. There are only certain times we dip into the good wines—when something good happens or really, really bad. There was no way Flora knows about me so…

  I swivel, catching her trying to cram half the muffin into her mouth and study her dancing eyes. “You’re still glowing,” I say finally. “But even more than before.”

  “I’m eating,” she says through the mouthful.

  “No, but you are. Is it Dean?”

  Crumbs drop into her shirt as she nods, her face breaking into a wide, happy smile. “Lots of things.”

  I force a smile, happy for my friend even when my life is suddenly in shambles. “You better tell me everything.”

  We take the wine into the living room where Gulliver hops up, the scent of Flora’s bulldog driving him crazy as he writhes in her lap. She tells me about her weekend with Dean, all the details including the ones he might not want me to hear. She tells me about Thomas showing up in the shop yet again, this time freshly broken up with Evelyn and wanting another chance with Flora. I high-five her, almost spilling my wine when she gives a play by play about shutting him down.

  “It’s like he can sense something about Dean,” Flora muses aloud, refilling her glass. “Thomas came into the store maybe a half-dozen times when we were together, but twice alone since I met Dean.”

  “But things are good? Dean doesn’t think—?”

  “He is so over her,” Flora says happily, guessing what I’m about to ask. “And that’s the best part, but there’s more.” And then she tells me about her brothers, and how they want to bring her back into the family nursery business.

  My heart swells for her because I know how much it devastated her when they bought her out. All because her brothers never trusted Thomas, which they had a good right not to, but it wasn’t easy for her.

  “I’m so happy for you,” I say, gripping her hand. “Truly. And proud of the way you handled things. Walking out on that wedding was the best thing you could have done.”

  “For you, too, right?”

  I reach for the bottle, feeling Flora’s suddenly concerned gaze turn on me. “M.K? What’s going on?”

  I shrug helplessly. Flora has always been there for me, but at this moment when I need her, I’m reluctant because her life has fallen into place exactly as it should.

  “M.K.,” she says sternly, the same tone I’ve heard countless times from her brother Oliver. “Dean’s at Clay’s now, so I can call him and ask, so don’t think you can hide this.”

  “Oh, there’s no hiding this,” I say, thinking of how the playpen nestled into Clay’s bedroom, the love I saw in his eyes when he presented me with his son.

  “We don’t hide things.”

  “No, we don’t.” I take a deep breath. “Clay has a son.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Clay has a son,” I repeat. “A former—the term girlfriend seems a bit loose—a woman he had dated just told him she had a baby.”

  “When?”

  “Four months ago.”

  “What?”

  “That’s not the best part,” I say grimly. “She’s left town and wants Clay to raise the baby.”

  Flora stares at me, eyes narrowed. “And you don’t want a baby.”

  I shrug again, like the weight of a four-month-old baby is weighing down my shoulders. “My mother is going to love this. She’ll see it as a ready-made family.”

  “This isn’t about your mother,” Flora says gently.

  “No, it’s about me raising another woman’s baby.”

  “With the man you love.”

  “What happens if the mother comes back and takes him? Takes both of them?” Even as I say the words, the possibility of losing Clay to another woman looms before me. “He’s so honourable and good. Of course he’ll want a family with her. Why wouldn’t he? And where does that leave me?”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “If you got pregnant with Thomas, wouldn’t you have tried and make it work with him?”

  “But this isn’t me and Thomas. This is Clay and a woman he slept with. Not a girlfriend, you said. Where is she? And why did she leave the baby?”

  “I have no idea,” I say bitterly. “Clay didn’t tell me. He just assumed I’d be happy about this and didn’t give me any details.”

  “Because you left, didn’t you? Did you let him explain everything?”

  “No, but…”

  “M.K.” Flora’s sigh is more affectionate than reproachful. “Have more wine.”

  “I have wine.”

  She still pours more. “How long have we been friends?”

  “Since kindergarten.”

  “That’s twenty—that’s a long time. Have you even wondered why we’ve never had a fight?”

  “We’ve had fights.”

  “Not really. Not the ones where we’ve said exactly what’s on our minds and then stuff we don’t mean, where we both end up in tears, eating a whole pint of ice cream alone until we figure out how miserable we are without each other.”

  “Do you want to have a fight like that?”

  “Of course not. You never fought with Ben, either.”

  “No, but—”

  “And even when you thought I was crazy being with Thomas, and I know you did, you never once said anything negative about him because you knew I’d defend him and that would cause problems with us.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “And I appreciate that. In all the years that your mother had been planning your weddings and baby showers and trying to run your life, have you ever once told her to stop? Told her to shut up and let you live your life?”

  “No.”

  “You walk away instead. You tuck your head down and make a batch of fabulous croissants until you settle down. You take this crap stuff and make a plan on how you are going to deal with it, instead of fighting against it.”

  I stare into the dregs of my glass. “Maybe it’s the wine, but I really don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

  Flora laughs. “I don’t either. I went on one of my tangents, but it comes down to how you walked away from
Clay without knowing everything. You just walked away from this great guy who probably had the shock of his life, because of the slim-to-none possibility that he’s going to pick this mystery baby mother over you. This mother who gave her baby away.”

  “I’m sure she had her reasons.”

  “Which you don’t know. Did you ever contemplate helping him raise the baby? You walked away to plan your life without him. Right?”

  I reach for the bottle. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t like fighting. Conflict.”

  “You know I’m right. And no one likes conflict. But some things are worth fighting for. Is Clay?” I think of him, picture his face, his smile, how he makes me feel about myself. “You two are good together. And from what Dean has told me, Clay really hasn’t had this with anyone else before.”

  “He hasn’t. The longest relationship he’s had was about a month. Maybe six weeks.”

  “And how long has it been for you two?”

  “Nine weeks. He said something about moving in together.”

  “Before or after baby arrived?”

  “Before. So that might have changed.”

  “Or maybe he needs you even more.”

  I stare at Flora, wondering if I’ve made a mistake. Feeling terrified and sad but with surge of hope that’s beginning to grow. “What do I do now?”

  Flora smiles and tips the bottle into her own glass. “Finish this bottle with me. Then I’d go talk to him for a start. Fight for him, if he’s worth it.”

  “How can I fight a baby?”

  “Maybe you don’t have to.”

  Clay

  I’d settled Theo against me on the couch when Dean let himself in. “You wouldn’t believe all the stuff that went down today,” he calls from the hall. “With Flora, and I talked to—” His foot catches the edge of Theo’s car seat, and he accidently kicks it. “He’s still here?”

  He steps into the living room, taking in me with the baby. “Looks that way. Did you talk to M.K.?”

  I nod morosely.

  Without a word, Dean turns on his heel to head for the kitchen and the clink of bottles reach my ears. “I guess that’s why Flora ran out like her greenhouse was on fire.” Dean hands me a bottle of Mill Street, touching his with it. “They’ll be into the beer themselves. Or whatever they drink together?”

  “Wine, probably. Or maybe this is a time for tequila.” My shoulders sag at the thought of another night without M.K.

  “It’s baby time.” He sets his bottle on the table and reaches for Theo. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. Hey, buddy.” He studies the baby’s face, his blue onesie. “He is a buddy, isn’t he?”

  “Theo. His name is Theo.”

  “Hey, Theo, little buddy.” He holds him up, stretching out his arms to dangle him and my heart stops. Dean is well over six feet and holding Theo like that—I breathe only when Dean tucks the baby into his arms. “He’s like a little football.”

  I drink deeply from my beer. “He’s my baby.”

  The words hit me then, like the time I took a pitch in the leg. It’s sudden, and sharp and it hurts. I’ve been so busy with getting everything I need for my son that I haven’t taken the time to realize what that exactly means.

  “You’re going to raise him?”

  “You don’t have to sound so disbelieving. I think I’m in shock enough for both of us.”

  He settles into the chair with Theo in his arms. I watch my friend, noting how comfortable he seems. “You look like you’ve done that before.”

  “Older sisters have babies. I was the best uncle until I left.” He bounces Theo on his knee. “He smiled! It’s probably gas,” he adds. “I miss them.”

  “I hardly ever see my brothers’ kids. My mother is going to freak.” I’m tired just thinking about explaining things to my parents. I haven’t even told Liv yet, and I tell her everything.

  “What did M.K. say?” Dean glances around as if realizing she’s not there. Where I want her to be. Where I need her. “Uh oh. That’s why the call to Flora?”

  “I guess. She didn’t say anything, just walked out.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Just that she didn’t want kids, especially not someone else’s.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I can’t blame her. I don’t know how I’d react if the situation was reversed. If she had a baby that she didn’t tell me about.

  She would at least have known she had a baby. My mind is still spinning from suddenly being a father.

  “What are you going to do?” Dean asks after a few moments’ silence.

  “I’m going to raise my son. I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “I guess not. But what about M.K.?”

  “I don’t know what I can do. This is my problem. Not that he’s a problem. You’re not a problem,” I say to Theo.

  “He can’t understand you.”

  “How do you know? Maybe he’s brilliant and understands every word we say?”

  Dean lifts up the baby again. “Do you want a beer, little buddy?”

  Theo gurgles and reaches out a hand for Dean’s beard. “Definitely brilliant.”

  “See?” Then I sigh. “He’s mine, but as much as I love M.K. and want her in my life, I can’t force her to take him on. It’s a lot.”

  “But you’re going to do it?”

  “Again, I don’t have a choice. He’s the consequence of my actions. He’s a really good consequence,” I add with a smile. “I never thought I’d hear myself say that.”

  “Neither did I. You’re happy about it?”

  “I have to be. I have a son. It’s kind of cool.” My smile fades. “It’s actually terrifying.”

  “Maybe she’s just scared, too.”

  “Maybe. I hope so.”

  “You love her, don’t you?” Dean says gruffly. We’ve been friends for years; he’s my best friend, but we’ve never talked personal stuff. Being with him after Evelyn left him was the only time I’ve seen him vulnerable.

  “I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” I admit. “She’s amazing, and great and smart and driven. She sees things like I don’t, sees them in a way that I can’t even fathom. She’s built this business up by herself, and she’s so independent that I can’t see how she would ever need me.”

  “She doesn’t have to need you like that. Like a needy woman. But she can need you in her life.”

  “I need her. It’s only been a couple of hours since she left, but I don’t know what to do without her. Even with all the chaos about Theo this weekend, I was miserable without her. I don’t know what to do without her, how to get through this on my own.” I glance at Theo, now smiling up at Dean. “I don’t want to do it on my own.”

  “You’ve got it bad.”

  “So bad,” I agree. I measure my words, trying to sort out the intensity of my feelings. “It’s like my heart was this little peanut before I met her. Hard and covered in a shell. And after I met her, I realized I had a bunch of peanuts, only now they’ve become peanut butter. All gooey, and sweet, and good.”

  It sounds insane when I say it, but Dean only nods. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  We sit quietly for a few minutes, watching the sports plays of the week on TV. If M.K. was here, she would be in the kitchen with me, cooking dinner, laughing together. Or she would be curled up beside me, her warmth giving me comfort that I never knew I needed.

  I blink quickly to stop the burning in my eyes. The peanut butter analogy was enough; I can’t let Dean see me crying over M.K.

  Even though I could be. Easily.

  I can’t put into words how much it hurt when she walked out, without giving me a chance to explain. To ask.

  “I don’t think I handled it right,” I say suddenly.

  “With M.K.?” Dean asks.

  “I told her about Theo, without realizing how much of a shock it was. We’ve never talked about the future, and I liked that after all those women who kept pestering me for a commitment. It’s so eas
y with her.”

  “Do you want a future with her? Like the marriage and children type?”

  I nod slowly and keep nodding. “I do. I didn’t understand how much until Theo. It’s always been an abstract concept—you see kids, but you never really understand what it would be like.”

  “You’ve only had him for two days.”

  “I know,” I agree. “It’s just the tip, but I can see how it can be. Not great—not all the time. Probably really hard. But worth it. At least it would be with her.”

  “But you don’t know if that’s what she wants.”

  “I don’t. And I’d like to. Because that changes things.”

  “Maybe she loves you enough to change what she wants.”

  “Maybe. But that’s not a good thing to want her to change because of me.”

  “It’s called compromise. It’s what you do when you’re in love.” He grins ruefully. “At least that’s what I did with Evelyn.”

  “But it’s better with Flora?”

  “It’s like nothing else matters. It’s like Evelyn wasn’t real, and I can’t see how I was so upset about it.”

  “I’m glad. She’s a great girl.”

  “You don’t even know the half of it.”

  “When you came in, you said you had stuff going on. What’s up? I sort of took over here.”

  “You had a good reason. But yeah, things with Flora happened, which you can probably guess.”

  “I’d have to be blind not to,” I say wryly.

  “Yeah, well, some other stuff, too. I called my old coach,” he says slowly.

  For a minute I don’t understand. I think he’s talking about Mikey, who he works with at the Baseball Zone. Or Imad, who is the unofficial manager of our team. And then it hits me. “The Jays?”

  “Buffalo. Triple-A,” he admits. “I didn’t know if he’d even take my call, but he’s always been a good guy. He helped me a lot or at least he tried to before I turned into a dick. Anyway,” he continues before I can respond. “We talked and he told me to come down and talk to him in Buffalo. That I could hit for him, and see what’s going on.”