She sniffled. “Well. You should. I deserve it.”
“If we all got what we deserved in life, I’d be in a lot more than an ankle monitor.”
That made Adele laugh. “Me too. Anyway, I’m sorry, Elton. I really didn’t mean to get you in trouble. And I definitely didn’t mean what I said.”
“Which time? You’ve said a lot of things.”
She really had. And yet here he was, hugging her, one hand stroking her back. He had a real tenderness that Adele felt like she hadn’t really noticed before. “I truly am sorry. Will you forgive me for being so mean?”
“Nothing to forgive. Water under the bridge.”
“But—”
“Adele. No buts. Forgiven. Done. As far as the east is from the west and all that.”
She laughed. “I think you’re misapplying your Scriptures.”
“Probably. Been a long while since I’ve been to church.”
Adele pressed her cheek closer to his chest, loving the comfort his arms offered. “You should come with me sometime.”
“To church?”
“Mm-hm.”
“The first problem is, of course, my new leash. Pretty sure I have to stay home.”
Adele didn’t argue. The wheels in her mind were already turning. She suspected that something like church, something that might be considered rehabilitative, might constitute allowing Elton off the property. She was no lawyer but had googled ankle monitors and house arrest. She planned to get Ben’s number and call to ask.
“What’s the other reason?”
“I’m not sure I’m the kind of man the Big Guy wants dirtying up his pews.”
“That’s actually the direct opposite of the gospel, El. God doesn’t say to clean up your life and then come to church. He just says come. As you are. Who isn’t at least a little bit dirty? And we don’t have pews at my church. Folding chairs.”
“Now I have a third reason. That sounds plain uncomfortable.”
Adele could feel his smile against her hair. It took away some of the pressure squeezing around her chest. She pulled back to look up at his face, brushing the tears that cling to her eyelashes. Elton smiled, lacing his fingers together behind her back so she couldn’t go anywhere yet.
“I know you said it’s forgiven, but I’d like to do something to help you during this time. Don’t say I can’t do anything. Think of something. Bringing you groceries—”
“I’ve got a grocery delivery service. His name is Easton.”
Adele rolled her eyes. Her mood darkened slightly, thinking of the other, moodier twin whose feelings she’d also hurt. She would have to make it right with him another time.
“Think of something, El. I mean it. Or I’m just going to start dropping random acts of kindness your way.”
Elton made a show of gasping. “Oh no! Not random acts of kindness!”
Adele giggled. “It’s not a promise. It’s a threat.”
Elton grinned, and she was happy that it seemed to be genuine. It warmed his brown eyes to a lovely milk chocolate color.
“Okay. If you insist, there is something. But it’s a big ask.”
Adele smiled. “Shoot. Anything.”
Elton hesitated, and nervousness made Adele’s heart pound. Just how big of an ask? Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to say yes …
“Keep me company. A few times a week, here at the house.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You just want to hang out? With me?”
“Yep. I can’t go anywhere, as we’ve clearly established. And my lesser twin is quite the party pooper, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“But, me? Don’t I drive you crazy?”
Without warning, Elton leaned forward and kissed her forehead before letting her go completely and shoving her aside to get to the sink. “The best kind of crazy, doll. Plus, desperate times.”
Desperate times, indeed. Whether it was because of guilt or the fact that she had oddly enjoyed the last few minutes with Elton, Adele found herself agreeing to spend two to three nights a week at the Boyd farm.
“It’s a date,” he said, grinning. “Now get out of here before you turn into a pumpkin.”
She hesitated at the door, glancing toward the stairs. “Think I should talk to Easton?”
“Nah. Give him a day or two. I think he’s honestly mad at me, not you. I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry about it.”
Elton shooed Adele out the door. It wasn’t until she got to her car that she realized that Elton hadn’t walked her to her car the way he had Cilla.
And, wait—did he just call this a date??
Chapter Nine
Adele
Guilt had become Adele’s new best friend.
It wasn’t a particularly kind friend, but it was quite faithful. Always happy to remind her of its presence and of her many wrongs. Including, but not limited to, getting Elton arrested, making cruel comments, and being responsible for Cilla having to move her wedding venue.
That last one was heavy on her mind as she arrived at the small bakery a few days later for a cake tasting with Cilla. If it hadn’t been for Adele yelling at Elton in the hospital, her best friend wouldn’t be forced to have her wedding at the Boyds’ farm.
Amazing, the power of words. And a little terrifying.
If she had only kept her mouth shut, a whole lot of circumstances would be different for her friends. Somehow, though, around Elton she couldn’t seem to hold back. She’d even hurt Easton when she snapped at dinner a few nights before. When he wouldn’t answer, Adele had apologized on his voicemail, but so far, he hadn’t called her back. Which could be a sign of silent forgiveness. Or that he was still mad. Hard to tell with him.
A bell tinkled as she pushed open the pink door of the bakery. Cilla waved from a small table near the glass counters. The whole place smelled of sugar and coffee, which lifted Adele’s spirits a little. A chalkboard menu outlined the day’s specials in a beautiful script and rows of cupcakes, pastries, and pies sat behind the glass.
Adele took a seat across from Cilla. “Wow. This place is adorable.”
“And the food is even better. Trust me. Mom recommended it. She and all of her tennis ladies rave about it.”
“Then it must be good.” Guilt settled over her shoulders. “I’m really sorry about you needing to move your wedding. I feel like it’s all my fault.”
Cilla rolled her eyes. “It isn’t your fault.”
“Except for the part where it is.”
Cilla shrugged. “Fine. Maybe in some indirect way, you yelling at Elton resulted in me having my wedding at the Boyd farm. It’s actually a good thing. We threw this wedding together fast. Normally, people have six months to a year to plan. Most venues I looked into were booked through next May. As in, almost eighteen months away. I was scrambling. The Boyd farm has history. For all of us. It will be beautiful and special. I never would have thought about it if it weren’t for you. Really, I should be thanking you.”
That did make Adele feel the slightest bit better. About the wedding, anyway. “Right. But there’s still the whole Elton-getting-arrested part.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s a convicted felon now. That’s on me.”
“No. That’s on him. Elton did something illegal. Several somethings. Now it caught up with him. End of story.” Cilla sliced a hand through the air, as though that really was the end of it.
It wasn’t. Not even close.
Adele shook her head. “It caught up with him because I opened my big mouth in front of a cop. Easton told me that the night Elton got hurt was the last fight night. They were planning to shut it down.”
Cilla crossed her arms over her chest. “Good for them. They still ran the thing for years and had every opportunity before this to stop it. They didn’t. You’re going to make yourself sick over it. I think that you and I can both agree that the twins haven’t been doing well since they lost their parents. I think it was high time Elton got a wake-up call. This one just happened to be a lou
d one. With a permanent record.”
Adele was about to argue again when a woman with white hair in a neat bun walked out carrying a tray full of small plates. The sight made Adele’s stomach growl obscenely. Cilla laughed, and the woman smiled.
Adele covered her belly and grinned. “Sorry. I skipped breakfast to save room.”
“That’s perfect. You’ll need it. I’m Jamie.” She set the tray down on a table next to them and shook Cilla’s hand. “You must be Cilla. Congratulations on your wedding.”
“Thank you. This looks amazing.”
Jamie began moving plates of cake from the tray to their table. “I’ve prepared our most popular choices for you: our famous white wedding cake with buttercream frosting, chocolate with chocolate ganache, carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, almond cake with brown butter frosting, lemon cake with blueberry and lemon curd filling with cream cheese frosting, and our newest addition, a pink ombre champagne cake with whipped cream frosting.”
“Wow,” Cilla said, picking up a fork. “I’m not sure how I’ll choose.”
“This is just the first round. I’ll be back in a moment with waters. Would either of you like coffee? It can be a nice palate cleanser.”
“Yes, please,” Adele said, and Cilla nodded.
“Wonderful. I’ll be back in a moment.”
When Jamie disappeared, Adele and Cilla grinned at each other. “Now this is where being the maid of honor comes with some serious perks.”
Cilla lifted her fork into the air over the table, and Adele clinked her fork to Cilla’s. “Cheers,” Cilla said. “Now let’s eat the heck out of some wedding cake. Oh! Wait. Don’t you need to Instagram this?” Cilla smirked as she said it, but she was right.
Adele bit her lip. “I should, actually. Do you mind? I’ll be fast.”
She was good enough with her phone camera and the editing apps she had that within a few minutes, she had a few decent photos of the cakes, of Cilla with cake, and even a quick video Cilla took of Adele raising a fork to her mouth and smiling. “Almost done. Promise.”
“No worries.”
After Elton’s comments the night before, Adele was still feeling a little prickly and defensive about her job. Thankfully, Cilla got it. Even if she hardly used social media.
Adele turned the video into a loop, showing her putting the fork to her lips, smiling, back down, then up again. Normally, she’d put that in her stories, which she reserved for the unplanned photos and candid shots. But it had been too long since she last posted, so she put it on her main feed and then stuck the phone in her purse.
“Thanks for waiting. Now, let’s eat.”
By the time Jamie returned with their waters and coffees, they had tried the white wedding cake, the chocolate, and the lemon.
“Ladies. Off to a good start, I see,” Jamie said, smiling as she set down their drinks. “Any early frontrunners?”
“The lemon,” Cilla said, just as Adele said, “Chocolate.”
All three of the women laughed. Jamie picked up the empty plates. “Don’t forget there is the groom’s cake to consider. Has your fiancé told you what he would prefer?”
“He would prefer to make no decisions,” Cilla said with a smirk. “But he does love chocolate.”
“We do have a few other chocolate choices. For your second round, would you like to try the chocolate with peanut butter, chocolate with hazelnut, or the chocolate chip cake with whipped chocolate frosting?”
“Wow. I’d love to try all three. And I’ve heard good things about your funfetti cake.”
Adele groaned. “I’m not sure I’m going to make it.”
Jamie grinned. “You will. Have a little coffee and some water. I’ll be back in a few minutes with round two.”
Jamie was right. The coffee did help clear out the sugar overwhelm from her mouth.
“I’m going to need you to help me make a decision. This is too hard,” Cilla said.
Adele picked up her fork and dug into the carrot cake. “One of each. That’d be my choice. Mm. Nope. Never mind. This one. Oh my goodness.”
Cilla groaned, licking frosting from her lips. “You’re so right. But carrot cake? Is that weird for a wedding?”
“They all look the same on the outside. And it’s your wedding. Who cares?”
“Right! I’m getting married. I’m getting married. To Pax. Sometimes it hits me square in the heart and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.” She pointed her fork at Adele like a weapon. “Don’t tell anyone that I’m being sappy.”
Adele rolled her eyes. “You’re allowed to be sappy. It would be weird if you weren’t. You aren’t a robot.”
“I know. I just … I guess I didn’t ever let myself dream about this. I tried to forget about Pax or the possibility of love for like six years. Now, we’re tasting wedding cakes.” Cilla shook her head. “How is this my life?”
Cilla had never been the type to dream about weddings. She didn’t even like romantic movies. Adele, on the other hand, had seven secret boards on Pinterest related to weddings. She was the one following wedding dress designers, bakers, and florists on Instagram.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. Or was that irony? Maybe it was the equivalent of that saying, a watched pot never boils. The more Adele wished for a man, a wedding, a family, the further it seemed from reality. While Cilla hadn’t considered the possibility, and now went from single to getting married within a six-month period.
Adele reached across the table and touched Cilla’s hand. “I’m glad you’re getting your dream. Even if you didn’t allow yourself to dream it. You and Pax are going to be so happy. And after the last six years you spent apart, you deserve some happiness.”
“You deserve it too, you know,” Cilla said.
Letting go of Cilla’s hand, Adele picked up her fork again. “Yeah. Right.”
“You do. I’ll fight you on this if I need to, Adele.”
“I’m pretty sure that getting Easton’s twin brother jailed in his home is not the way to his heart.”
Guilt laughed at her again, and Adele wondered how she was going to ever eradicate its voice in her head. This time, it was accompanied by despair. You really think Easton would be interested in someone like you? Your friends are all going to get married and you’ll be all alone.
Adele closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Normally, her headspace didn’t feel like so much of a battlefield. Today, though, her emotions felt raw and easily bruised.
“Adele?”
She opened her eyes, surprised to find that they were heavy with tears. Cilla looked concerned. “Are you okay?”
Jamie chose that moment to return and Adele grabbed her purse and excused herself to the bathroom. After locking the door to the single-person restroom, she glared at herself in the mirror.
“Enough with the pity party. Be happy for your friend. Stop thinking about what you don’t have.”
Something she had neglected to do lately came to her suddenly. The pastor of the small church she attended had issued the challenge to give thanks whenever you were feeling discouraged or frustrated. Adele had gotten into the habit of giving thanks for five things. Ten, if the five didn’t help quell her mood.
Today might be a grateful-for-ten-things kind of day. Five was about as far as she could stretch at the moment.
“God, thank you for friends,” she managed to grit out through clenched teeth. She was still trying to hold back the tears, which now felt as angry as they did sad. “Cake. My job. My health. Chocolate.”
The thing about giving thanks was that it was an active practice. A choice. She didn’t need to feel grateful. She could tell God thanks whether she felt like it or not. Usually, when she remembered to do this, it was because she didn’t feel particularly thankful.
Often, the act of giving thanks led to a shift in her emotions. Today would not be one of those days. She still felt down. Looking in the mirror again at her makeup-streaked face didn’t help.
Digging arou
nd in her purse for makeup wipes, Adele felt her phone buzz against her palm. Pulling it out, she opened it up to see the notifications from Instagram. The comments were flying in. Most of them were asking where she was, as she had forgotten to tag the business. She could fix that. But the last few comments stopped her.
BeaZ23: OMG put the fork down. Step away from the cake. Find a gym.
JeffShows5: check the link in my bio for diet tips
LADYdye: girl, no. No no no no. This is why you look the way you do. Fat is fat is fat. Don’t let those body positive people fool you. This is NOT ATTRACTIVE.
Jazzman: law of cause and effect. Eat cake = get fat.
She sucked in a breath. These kinds of comments were not new. For every fifty nice ones, there were a handful of nasty.
Normally, Adele rolled her eyes and clicked delete, blocking the worst commenters. They rolled right off her back. Every so often, the mean comments struck their intended target. Today was the kind of day where she should have avoided reading the comments.
Adele’s finger hovered over the screen but instead of moderating the comments and blocking the rude people, she deleted her video and shoved the phone to the bottom of her purse. When she had wiped the smudged makeup from underneath her eyes and banished her tears through sheer force of will, Adele marched back to the table.
“I was beginning to think you fell in,” Cilla said. “Look! More chocolate!”
Adele looked down at the new plates of cake, which looked just as delicious as they had before she’d started throwing the pity party about Easton. Before she’d hidden in the bathroom. Before the comments that made her doubt herself.
They were the ones with the problem. Not her.
“Hey, you okay?”
Adele sank back in her chair, exhaustion hitting her out of nowhere. “I’m just so tired.”
“What’s making you tired?”
Adele’s tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth. “I don’t know.”
“Are you working too much? Am I making you do too many wedding things?”
Winning the Cowboy Page 7
