“It sounded pretty clear,” he said. He backed up from the counter. He put one hand on the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. “So, are we calling it then?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, if you don’t want to get married to me, then I’m really not sure where that leaves us,” he said.
“Joe, it’s not that I don’t want to get married to you,” she said. “It’s that I don’t want to get married period.”
“Why not?” he asked. “You know, the first day I walked into the bakery and saw you in the kitchen, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“You did?” she asked. He had never told her that before.
“Yep,” he said. “One look at you, and it was as if I’d been hit by lightning. I still feel that way when I look at you.”
“Oh, Joe,” she said. She made to come around the counter, but he held up a hand, indicating she should stay.
“It sounds like you have some thinking to do,” he said. “I’m going to go home, and when you know what you want, call me.”
“But can’t we talk about it?” she asked.
“We could,” he agreed. “But here’s the thing: I know I want to wake up next to you every day for the rest of my life. I want you to feel the same way, and I don’t want to feel like I’ve talked you into it.”
He crossed the room and opened the door. Mel would have called him back, but what could she say? That she’d changed her mind? That she suddenly wanted to get married? She didn’t.
“Call me when you know what you want,” he said. “Even if it isn’t me.”
Mel felt her throat get tight. She would have called him back just to tell him she loved him, but she couldn’t get the words out. She just nodded and watched mutely as he closed the door between them.
Twenty-two
Captain Jack sashayed around the corner, looked Mel in the eye, and yowled as if he knew she’d just thrown his kitty daddy to the curb.
“That’s nothing,” Mel said through the lump in her throat. “Wait until my mother hears about this. She’s going to make Tarzan’s call sound like a whimper.”
Captain Jack began to lick his chest as if he would not dignify that remark with an answer.
The timer on the oven went off, and Mel grabbed a pot holder and pulled out the piping-hot pizza. The thought of food right now made her stomach turn.
She reached for her cell phone. It was instinct to call Angie to talk, but she couldn’t. Joe was Angie’s brother. There was no way she could be impartial about what was happening between them; besides, Mel would have to confess about their engagement, and she couldn’t imagine that going well. Understatement of the decade.
That left Tate. She doubted he’d answer his phone, but it was worth a try. She called. He didn’t answer. She hit redial. Still he didn’t answer. She sent a text. He did not respond.
Mel thought about giving up; obviously, the man did not want to be disturbed. But really, she had no one else, and she had some stuff going on. He was her oldest friend, even older than Angie, and even though he had his own crap right now, he really needed to be there for her. Besides, what better way to get out of his own head than to listen to her whine?
She called again. On the fourth ring, a very testy voice asked, “What?”
“‘He’ll keep calling me, he’ll keep calling me until I come over. He’ll make me feel guilty. This is uh . . . This is ridiculous, okay I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go,’” Mel replied with one of her favorite movie quotes.
“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, very nice. Now, what is so critical?” Tate asked.
“Joe and I just broke up,” she said. Mel thought it quite amazing that her voice only cracked at the end and that she didn’t burst into tears.
Tate swore. “Come outside.”
“What?” she asked. “Where are you?”
“Just come out,” he said.
“Oh, man. You’ve moved into a box in the alley,” she said. She made sure the oven was off, patted Captain Jack on the head, took her keys, and stepped outside. She did a quick visual off the alley but didn’t see him.
“I’m not living in a box,” he said. “Well, not exactly.”
“Tate, don’t you think you’re taking this too far?” she asked.
She quickly locked her door and scanned the area again. An arm waving at her from the parking lot caught her attention. Tate was hanging out the window of their cupcake van.
“You’re kidding me, right?” she asked.
“Nope, not kidding,” he said. “Come on over.”
Mel switched off her phone and ran down the stairs. The big white van with the Fairy Tale Cupcakes logo on the side was parked in its usual spot in the lot adjacent to the bakery. The van technically belonged to Oz, but Tate had put a small fortune into it to turn it into the sweet ride that it was. Marty and Oz took it to events to pimp their cupcakes, and occasionally people hired them to use it for parties and such.
As Mel approached, Tate rolled up the back door and held out his hand to help her up. Mel stepped carefully into the back of the van.
“You’ve made quite a little nest for yourself here,” she said.
Tate pulled the door down and turned on his camping lantern.
“Oz said I could crash in it until I get a place,” he said. “Have a seat.”
Mel sat on the sleeping bag he’d rolled out between the banks of freezers that ran along each side of the van. Tate closed his open laptop and sat beside her.
It was quiet in the van, and the soft glow coming from the lantern made it quite cozy.
“Cookie?” Tate offered. He held out an open pack of Double Stuf Oreos, and Mel took three. “We’ll have to share the milk.”
He put an open carton between them. It reminded Mel of junior high school, and she smiled. It seemed like just yesterday Tate had been an overly tall, skinny boy with a cowlick that wouldn’t be tamed and a love of junk food and old movies that rivaled her own.
“So, what happened with you and Joe?” he asked.
Mel nibbled her cookie. Now that she had someone to talk to, she didn’t know what to say. Maybe she should have kept it between her and Captain Jack.
“Come on,” Tate elbowed her. “You don’t drop a bomb on someone and then refuse to give details about what happened. Did he cheat on you? I’ll pound him.”
Mel looked at him, and he bit his cookie and nodded.
“Yeah, you’re right, this is Joe we’re talking about,” he said. “He’d never cheat. It’s not in his DNA.”
“He asked me to marry him,” Mel said.
Tate choked on his cookie, and Mel handed him the carton of milk. When he finished slugging back enough milk to dislodge the Oreo in his throat, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at her with wide eyes.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“I said yes,” Mel said.
Tate beamed at her. “That’s . . . wow . . . I’m really happy for you.”
Mel looked at him again and waited.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Proposal. Yes. Breakup. Something here is not adding up.”
Mel sighed.
“Explain,” he said.
“Joe asked me to marry him at the end of the rodeo,” she said. “I said yes, but I wanted to keep it quiet for a while. You know how my mom is.”
“True that,” Tate agreed. “She’d have you decked out in a poofy meringue and marched down the aisle before the sun set on the day he proposed.”
“Exactly,” she said.
“So, how long were you going to keep it quiet?”
“At first, I figured just a few months,” she said. “But now . . .”
“Mel, you have been in love with Joe DeLaura since you were twelve,” Tate said.
She looked at him in surprise.
“Yes, I knew. Heck, everyone knew,” he said. “That boy would walk into the room and
you’d get that moony look on your face. And heaven forbid he spoke to you, because then you’d turn bright red and go hide. Truly, even as your best friend, it was so embarrassing.”
“And now I’ve lost him,” she said. She twisted an Oreo apart and scraped the filling off with her teeth.
“That’s disgusting,” he said.
“I’m heartbroken, it’s allowed,” she countered.
They were silent for a few minutes while they polished off some more cookies.
“Mel, I have to ask. Is it the detective?”
“What do you mean?” she asked. She knew her face was heating up, and she was grateful for the dim lighting in the van.
“Oh, please. Marty told me he walked in on you and Martinez,” he said.
“Nothing happened,” Mel protested.
“But it could have,” he said. “Couldn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Mel said.
She felt on the verge of tears, and Tate must have heard it, because he moved the milk carton out from between them, threw an arm around her shoulders, and hugged her close.
She glanced up and found his face just inches from hers. Why couldn’t she have fallen for him when they were twelve? He glanced at her and grinned as they exchanged a look of perfect understanding.
Mel knew she didn’t have to say it. They both felt it. As much as they loved each other, they had never ever felt that way, and they never would.
“Tate, why is this happening?”
“At a guess?” he asked. “I’d say you’re scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Death.”
Mel would have questioned him further, but the back door to the van rolled up, startling them both. Tate clutched her closer as if preparing to throw her behind him in case it was Sam’s murderer coming to kill again.
Instead, it was Angie. She took in the scene in a glance and, with a stricken look, she started to back away.
Twenty-three
“Oh, hell no!” Tate snapped and he climbed over Mel and hopped to the ground, catching Angie about the waist and spinning her about.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t realize—Oz told me—I was worried—” Angie’s stammer was cut off in the middle when Tate pulled her close and planted a kiss on her that was the single most romantic thing Mel had ever witnessed.
She knew she should look away, but when Angie twined her arms around Tate’s neck and the kiss deepened, Mel found herself sighing with joy. It was just so right seeing them together.
Tate broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Angie’s. “It’s you I want. No one else. Do you get it, you ninny?”
Obviously incapable of speech, Angie nodded.
“But I have to prove to myself that I’m good enough for you.”
Angie looked as if she would protest, but he shook his head at her.
“You’re just going to have to be patient. Clear?” he asked.
Again, Angie nodded. Tate released her with a grin.
“I think I kissed her speechless,” he said to Mel. “Who’d a thunk?”
Mel looked at Angie. She did seem to be in a bit of a stupor, and Tate was walking with a self-confident swagger she’d never seen on him before.
He climbed back into the van and gently pushed Mel out. Looking quite pleased with himself, he said, “Now go away, both of you.”
He rolled the door down. Mel turned to look at Angie and wondered if they were on speaking terms yet.
“He called me a ninny,” Angie said. Then she broke out in a smile that was blinding in its brilliance. “That should not be as charming as it is.”
“Come on,” Mel said as she threw an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll buy you a cupcake.”
They crossed the alley to the back door of the bakery. Mel didn’t look at the corner where she’d found Sam’s body. It still freaked her out that it could have happened while she was sleeping in her apartment, completely unaware.
Angie went right to the walk-in and came back with two of Mel’s Moonlight Madness Cupcakes. They were her insomnia special: chocolate cupcakes with vanilla buttercream, rolled in coconut and each topped with a Hershey’s Kiss. Mel poured them each a glass of milk, and they sat at the steel table in the center of the kitchen.
They’d each taken a restorative bite and washed it down with a sip of cold milk when Angie finally spoke, addressing the situation between them.
“I’m sorry I said you had a big, fat mouth,” Angie said. “It was mean and stupid and you didn’t deserve that.”
Mel blew out a breath. “It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.” Angie shook her head. “You’re my best friend, and I treated you like garbage. Let me make it up to you.”
Guilt stabbed Mel as sharp as a pinprick.
“You really don’t have to do that,” she said.
“No, I do,” Angie said. “Tell you what: I’ll take over cleaning the bakery every day.”
Mel shook her head and took another bite of her cupcake.
“I’ll give you a foot rub,” Angie offered.
“Tempting but really not necessary.”
“I’ll do lunch with your mother in your place,” Angie said. “I’ll let her grill me about you and Joe, and I won’t let anything slip.”
Mel dropped her cupcake back onto the plate and wiped the extra frosting off of her fingers.
“What’s wrong?” Angie asked.
“I owe you an apology, too,” Mel said.
Angie paled and pushed her cupcake away. She clenched her fingers together and took a fortifying breath.
“It’s you and Tate, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Oh, by all that is holy, no!” Mel yelled and slammed her hand on the steel tabletop, making it ring like a gong.
Angie blinked at her in surprise. Mel seldom lost her temper and she very rarely yelled.
“Let me be perfectly clear,” she said. “Tate is my F-R-I-E-N-D! Friend! That’s all that has ever been between us—EVER!”
“You don’t have to shout,” Angie said. “I’m not hard of hearing.”
“Really?” Mel asked. “Because I have been saying this for years, and yet you keep suspecting that Tate and I have a thing for each other when we don’t.”
“But—” Angie began, but Mel interrupted.
“Joe and I broke up.”
“What?” Angie looked stricken, and Mel wished that she had cushioned the news a bit more. “Does your mother know?”
“Not yet,” Mel said.
“But why?”
Mel sighed. “You know how you just apologized for being mean today?”
“Yes.”
“You said you wanted to make it up to me,” Mel said. “Do you think you could not freak out about what I’m going to tell you?”
“Maybe,” Angie said.
Mel glanced up. Angie’s dark brown gaze was boring holes into hers, so she quickly looked at the tabletop to avoid being blinded by the intensity of her friend’s stare.
“And I’m going to need you to forgive me in advance,” Mel added.
“What?” Angie asked. “How can I when I don’t even know what you’ve done?”
Mel shrugged. She knew she should take the hit of Angie’s ire like a woman and just tell her what was going on, but having Angie not speaking to her today had been pretty lousy and she really didn’t want to go through it again.
“Scale of one to ten, how bad is it?” Angie asked.
Mel considered if the situation had been reversed and Angie hadn’t told her that she and Tate had been engaged for months and not told her. Yeah, it was pretty bad. What had Angie said earlier when Martinez had been teasing her? That it would be a huge thing to keep from her. Mel knew it was a major oops in best friend protocol.
“Nine point five,” Mel said.
“Oh, my god. You killed Sam Kelleher, didn’t you?”
“What? No!” Mel said. “How could you even think that?”
“Well, a ten on the friend scale
means you need help hiding the body,” Angie said. “Since you don’t need that, I figured the next level down would be a confession of murder.”
“Yeah, if you’re an ax-wielding psychopath,” Mel said. “Sheesh.”
“So, what is it then?” Angie asked. “Spill it already! The suspense is killing me.”
“I lied to you earlier,” Mel said. She glanced up, looking at her friend with regret. “Joe and I were engaged.”
The hurt in Angie’s eyes was worse than Mel had anticipated. She reached out across the table and grabbed her friend’s hand.
“I’m really sorry,” she said. “I should have told you, but I just wanted to keep it to myself for a while.”
“It’s cool, I understand,” Angie said. But it was clear from the strained quality of her voice that she didn’t. “So, why did you break up?”
“He wants to get married, and I don’t,” Mel said.
“Why not?” Angie asked.
“I don’t know,” Mel said. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I don’t know what’s holding me back.”
“Fear,” Angie said.
“Of what?” Mel asked. “I’ve loved Joe for as long as I can remember. What could I possibly be afraid of?”
“Marriage is a big step, even if you’re crazy in love with someone,” Angie said.
“If Tate proposed to you right now and wanted to run away with you, what would you do?” Mel asked.
“Grab his hand and never let go,” Angie said.
Mel let out a heavy sigh. “What if Joe gives up on me?”
“He won’t,” Angie said.
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s my brother, and I’ve never seen him this crazy about anyone before.”
“Yeah, until he dumped me,” Mel said.
“What did he say exactly?” Angie asked.
“That he thought I needed time to think and that he didn’t want to feel as if he’d talked me into marrying him,” she said.
“And what about Martinez?” Angie asked.
“What about him?”
“Mel, I’d have to be six feet under not to notice that he’s interested in you,” Angie said. “Are you interested in him, too?”
Mel did not want to answer. Angie kept her gaze unwavering, and Mel put her head down on the steel table.
Going, Going, Ganache Page 15
