Beautifully Baked: A Sweet Romantic Comedy

by Holly Kerr

  “I can’t imagine any engagement lasting very long,” M.K. continues in a voice laced with condescension. “Ruthie isn’t the type.”

  “What type is she?”

  “Fun. Ruthie is all about fun and excitement. I’m sure being engaged is fun, but married life won’t be, and that’s where she’ll draw the line and move on to the next victim. She’s got a trail of broken hearts across the country.”

  “I guess it’s good that Trev didn’t fall under her spell tonight.” Part of me hoped my friend and Ruthie might hit it off, but there were no sparks, only annoyance from both sides.

  M.K. sighs and I feel her relax. “Ruthie is amazing in her own way, but she’s very selfish. I don’t think that will ever change.”

  “I think she’s cool. Or I would think that if I stopped being scared of her.”

  “You can’t be scared of Ruthie,” she chides. “She’s harmless.”

  “I don’t think she is. But it’s cool. She’s scary cool.”

  M.K. laughs softly, the sound cutting off as Theo’s cry breaks into the room. “I thought he might have problems falling asleep,” she says. “I think he was overstimulated tonight.”

  “What’s that?” I throw off the covers, but M.K. is already up.

  “I read about it. Too much noise and excitement for babies. It makes it difficult to settle down.”

  I watch in amazement as M.K. heads to Theo’s crib. This is the first time she’s gone to settle him in the night.

  “Hello, little man.” I hear her soft voice over the baby monitor. “Can’t sleep? Come talk to us.”

  Not only is she holding him, almost cuddling him against my Lacoste T-shirt, but she brings him back into the room. “I know you’re not supposed to bring babies into bed—”

  “Who says that?” I reach for him. “I think it’s a great idea. For a while,” I add, with a glance at M.K. “I don’t want him in here all night. That might be bad parenting.”

  “I think it might disrupt his sleep patterns, but there’s been no long-term effects…” She trails off as she notices how I’m looking at her. “Oh. Well, that wouldn’t be good for him either.”

  “I kind of want you all to myself for a bit.”

  “I’d like that too,” she says softly. She lies down carefully, giving Theo the spot still warm from her body.

  The three of us lie there for long minutes, Theo quickly falling back asleep, and M.K. watching him.

  I watch M.K. I can’t read the expression on her face.

  “I know this hasn’t been easy for you,” I begin in a quiet voice.

  “It’s fine,” she says shortly, and I stifle my sigh of frustration. She shut down, just like she does when I want to talk about Theo or the future. “He seems fine now. Why don’t you take him back to his crib?”

  She’s open about everything in her life except what she wants from me. And lately, I really want to find out what she thinks about that.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  M.K.

  I sleep at home Sunday night.

  I tell Clay it’s because Monday will be busy, and I need a few extra hours of sleep. I still have problems knowing Theo is in the next room. The baby monitor picks up his every movement, every cry in his sleep. I woke up with a start two nights ago after a bout of bad gas was broadcast into the bedroom.

  Clay knows all this. He knows I miss him when I’m not curled up beside him, but he respects me enough not to argue or complain.

  What Clay doesn’t know is how I felt holding Theo last night.

  I’ve been good. While I’ve been slowly deconstructing the walls around my heart for Clay, I’ve reinforced the ones for Theo.

  It’s too soon to fall in love with a baby.

  Even though we had planned to talk about the future, the discussion never happened. He loves me; I love him but I refuse to let myself love Theo.

  What if we don’t work out after all, and I’m heartbroken with the loss of him and his son? Or worse, what if the mother comes back? What if she decides she wants Theo back or doesn’t want another woman in her son’s life?

  Some nights I lie awake wondering if it came to a choice, would Clay pick me or Theo.

  So I haven’t let myself fall in love with Theo.

  It’s been harder than I imagined it would be. He’s so cute and loves to cuddle. He smells amazing.

  All the things I love about Clay.

  But last night while he was crying, I needed to be with him. And as I was holding him, comforting him, there was a distinct tug at my heartstrings. It was strong and it was insistent.

  Let me in, a voice seemed to say.

  After he quieted, after both he and Clay fell asleep, I locked myself in the bathroom for half an hour until the temptation to pull Theo back into bed with us passed.

  It’s like I’m watching an avalanche of snow fall off a mountain. From a distance it seems like slow motion, a dangerous but beautiful display of the power of nature, but anyone in its path is well aware of how destructive and deadly it can be.

  Letting myself fall for that baby is not a good idea for me.

  ~

  “You look like you’ve had a rough night,” Adam says sympathetically midway through the morning rush. “Hard night? I guess not,” he says with an impish grin. “Baby keep you up?”

  “I was at my place last night.”

  He rolls his eyes lasciviously. “That’s why you didn’t sleep.”

  “Should you really be talking to your boss like that?”

  “You’re not my boss—you’re my friend,” he says in a singsong voice. “I was invited to the same party as you.”

  “Because you’re finally, officially dating Flora’s cousin,” I say meanly. “I didn’t invite you.”

  “You love me, and you know it.”

  “I love it when you refill the milk containers before I have to ask you,” I shoot back. Adam chortles as he heads off to refill the containers.

  “Your phone’s abuzzin’,” Reuben calls. He’s working at the cash register where I left my bag and phone. I hurry to check it with a smile, thinking it’s Clay.

  It’s my mother. The dutiful daughter persona is so ingrained that I answer it without a moment’s thought.

  “You need to bring Clayton for dinner on Thursday,” she greets me. “It’s Wanda’s six-month birthday and everyone will be there.” Wanda is my sister Millie’s latest child. She’s already talking about getting pregnant again, no doubt trying to compete with Molly.

  My mother doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Your sister has decided that since society doesn’t reflect the importance of milestones, from now on they will be celebrating half-year birthdays.”

  Anyone not thinking society celebrates milestones should check out the greeting card selection in the nearest drugstore. But of course I don’t say anything about this to my mother. “I’ve heard it’s a thing. But unfortunately, I can’t make it.”

  “But it’s a party!” My mother’s voice swells like a balloon. She hates it when anyone says no to her.

  “One I’ll have to miss, I’m afraid.”

  “I hope you have a very good reason. Your sister will never forgive you for this.”

  “Millie never responded to my message after Wanda was even born, so I doubt she’ll even miss me.”

  “It’s because you left a message. There was no personal touch. You should have made the time to come down. You should have been at the hospital. You could have come into the delivery room!”

  “No, I really couldn’t. I’m sure I should do a lot of things, like massages and manicures like they do, but I don’t because I opened the patisserie. Which is kind of like my baby, but none of you realize that.”

  “You’ll be spending less time there when you and Clayton get married,” my mother says in a knowing voice.

  “I doubt that.”

  “Don’t argue with me about this. You saw how your father and I drifted apart when I went to work in the winery.”
/>
  I furrow my forehead with confusion. Is she really blaming her working for my father leaving? That’s a new one.

  “That won’t happen,” I say, not wanting to argue. “We’re fine.”

  “Just fine? Not good? Not great? Not fantastic? What kind of relationship are you in?”

  “A good relationship between two busy people, one of which has a son.”

  As soon as I say the words, I want to suck them back, like pulling a bubble back into the wad of chewing gum.

  I hear my mother’s gasp over the line, and for a moment I think of the scene in Harry Potter where the aunt swells like a balloon. “A son!”

  “It’s nothing,” I say quickly, hoping to dam the hole before the flood. I leap to my feet, needing to face this standing, not like a child bowing to authority.

  “It is not nothing. He has a child? Why did you never tell me?”

  “Because it’s none of your business.”

  “How can you say that?” I’ve wounded her, and a wounded animal is more dangerous than anything. I literally brace my feet for the attack. “After everything I’ve done for you.”

  “Mom, look, I should have told you, but we just found out—”

  Another mistake. “What do you mean, you just found out? How old is this child? Has he cheated on you already?”

  “No, he’s nothing like Ben.”

  “How can you say that? You had no idea Ben was even involved with anyone else. You were completely oblivious to the fact, a fact that is sorely disappointing to this family. Women should know these things. They should be able to sense them, like I did. Like I knew about what your father was doing with that…that…hussy!”

  Again, she’s distorting the facts, but this isn’t the time to correct. “Clay is nothing like Ben or Dad. He just found out that an ex-girlfriend had his baby. Theo is five months old. I haven’t even known Clay for that long.”

  “He has a baby!” Her voice turns sugar sweet and my head begins to ache from being whipped around during this conversation. “Oh, Moira Margaret, how wonderful! You’ve got the family you’ve always wanted. You can marry Clayton and adopt this child and I can have another grandchild! A grandson! I don’t have one yet, and until you get over this childish fear of having a baby—”

  “It’s not a fear, and it’s not childish. Despite what you want me to do, I don’t want a baby. I don’t even want to get married. And it’s not my family. Theo is Clay’s baby. He’s not my baby, and he will never be my baby.” A surge of rage builds up like my own flood, and for once I don’t check it. “This is not a ready-made family, as much as you pretend it is. I don’t want a ready-made family, because I don’t want a family. I don’t want to get married. I won’t be having children, and I won’t raise one that doesn’t belong to me just to make you happy. Can you please respect my decision?”

  Silence on the phone. But not from the doorway of my office.

  I whirl around to see Clay and Theo.

  Clay

  Even though M.K. is at her place, I still wake up early.

  I miss her beside me. I miss the feel of her in my arms, the smell of her skin, the way she curls into me after she turns off her alarm, like she’s desperate for a few more minutes of sleep.

  Theo takes on her role of wake-up call.

  “Good morning, little guy.” His answering smile touches my heart in a way I never thought I’d experience. It jolts me every time I see him—this is mine. He’s mine. But even after these couple of weeks, it’s like I’ve always had him.

  This has gone better than I ever could have imagined. Not that I ever imagined a woman from my past handing over my child. For a guy who shied from commitment, that’s the last thing I’d ever thought of.

  But now I have a baby. And I have M.K. Life is pretty perfect right about now.

  Because it’s so early, I bundle Theo into his car seat and take him into work. I can’t drop him off at the babysitter’s until eight o’clock, and if I want to be honest, I’ve been looking for a reason to bring him in and show him off.

  Only Rashida and Pearl know much about him, mainly because I tend to keep my personal life personal at work. It’s bad enough that they know my family’s business, but they don’t need to know mine.

  But Theo is different. However he came into my life, I’m proud to call him my son.

  As I lug his car seat, bulging diaper bag, and bouncy chair into my office, I realize this is why mothers are so strong. Baby stuff weighs a ton. But it’s worth is as I set Theo up in the seat beside my desk. He’s out of sight for anyone walking by, but as soon as Pearl comes in with my morning coffee, she’ll see him.

  Not that I ask Pearl to get my coffee—she does it on her own accord. “If I’m getting one for myself, it’s not much trouble to pick up one for you, too,” she always says. So every week I add to her Starbucks card. It’s not M.K.’s coffee but it’ll do.

  Thinking of M.K.’s coffee at the patisserie makes me think of her. I miss her when she doesn’t stay the night. I make a mental note to stop in for a kiss and a coffee when I leave to take Theo to the babysitters.

  Two hours later, Pearl finds me. I’ve demolished my inbox, and Theo has grown bored with the colourful danglies hanging from the arch over his chair and has let himself be lulled to sleep by the vibrations.

  “Good morning,” Pearl trills, taking in my rolled-up sleeves and mussed hair. “You look like you’ve been here for a while.” As she sets my to-go cup on my desk, her gaze falls on Theo. “Oh! Baby!”

  Her voice is more excited than loud but still does the trick to wake him up. His face contorts with a cry but as Pearl drops to the floor beside him, his eyes blink open and he falls under the soothing spell of Pearl. It’s like she’s the man-whisperer, always able to calm me down.

  “He’s so precious,” she coos, tickling his foot.

  “He’ll want to be picked up,” I warn.

  “And then that’s exactly what I’ll do.” She has him unbuckled from the seat and up into her arms in record time. “He’s just so sweet.” She bounces, she coos, she tickles. And Theo loves it.

  “I wondered when you’d break down and bring him in,” Rashida says from the doorway.

  “He was awake; I was awake. I had a pile of work to do that I hadn’t brought home. I’ll take off in a half hour to drop him off at the sitter’s.”

  “Then we have time to play with him.” Rashida holds out her arms to Pearl. “Give him here.”

  “I am not sharing,” Pearl all but growls.

  “I get to have a turn,” Rashida whines.

  “No,” Pearl says, stalking out of the office with Theo.

  I laugh at Rashida’s expression. “He’ll poop soon, and she’ll give him back,” I say.

  Rashida cocks her head. “Did you seriously mention baby poop?”

  “It’s a thing.”

  “It’s a thing that all new parents talk endlessly about. I never thought you’d ever fall into that category.”

  I rub the back of my neck. “Neither did I.”

  She perches at the edge of my desk, and I rescue my coffee in the nick of time. “So how’s the Daddy stuff going?”

  I shrug carelessly. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” I say, knowing Rashida has two boys, and my words will undoubtedly provoke a reaction.

  “Then you’re clearly doing something wrong,” she retorts in an icy tone.

  I chuckle. “No, it’s intense. But good. I don’t know other babies, but he’s so good. Easy.”

  “You’ll pay for it later,” Rashida says knowingly.

  “If he’s anything like me, I’ll be tearing my hair out by the time he’s a teenager.”

  “You won’t have any hair left by then. Or it’ll have gone gray.”

  “Fatherhood does not automatically mean losing my hair.”

  “Just wait. How is M.K. with the changes? Does she love it? Instant motherhood without any of the pregnancy hassles.”

  I’m not sure h
ow to answer that. The best I can say is that M.K. tolerates the baby. She seems uncomfortable with him and won’t touch him unless absolutely necessary. I chalk it up to her inexperience with babies and keep the hope that she’ll loosen up.

  Saturday night proved it’s possible. I need to give her more time.

  “She’s good,” I say. “It’s different and not usually what you expect when you’ve started a relationship, but she’s good.”

  “I’m glad. I like her a lot.”

  “So do I.”

  ~

  After prying an ecstatic Theo out of Pearl’s arms long enough to allow Rashida a brief cuddle, I pack him back into his car seat and set out to drop him off at the babysitter’s. M.K.’s patisserie isn’t exactly on the way, but I make the detour. Rashida’s words have stuck in my head. I need to give her time. She needs to spend more time with Theo. We have to figure out the living arrangements because I want her with me all the time.

  And even the cats. Theo would love to play with Gulliver and Scarlett.

  Maybe not Pennywise.

  She’ll want me to stop in with Theo, I tell myself as I park in front of the patisserie. She’ll want to see him.

  “Man and baby,” Adam sings as he catches sight of me. “Come see me! Or,” he says, his voice dropping with mock disappointment. “Go see your girl. She’s in the back office.”

  “I’ll come see you later,” I promise, hefting the car seat to avoid a group of customers.

  “I’m much more exciting than M.K.,” he taunts.

  “I’ve no doubt you are.”

  M.K. is rarely in her office during the morning rush, so I knock quietly when I reach the door. When she doesn’t answer, I push the door open.

  “He’s not my baby and he will never be my baby,” M.K. says angrily. She’s on her phone, and her back is to me. Even though I know I should back away, I can’t. I stand frozen in her office as she destroys me without a moment’s breath.