by J. Daniels
I smile up at him sheepishly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Brooke hands us both a cupcake, taking one for herself before sliding the panel closed. She gestures toward the clock on the wall with her free hand. “Wanna take bets as to what time Reese arrives? I’d put money on 2:37 p.m..”
Joey shoves half the cupcake into his mouth before responding. “No way. He’ll be here within the next few minutes. I’m saying 2:26 p.m.. What do you think?” he asks, nudging against me.
I take a bite out of my cupcake, glancing up at the clock. “Knowing Reese, he’s going to hunt down Bryce before he deals with me. And I’d give him an hour for kill time and dumping the body.” I swallow my bite, hearing Joey and Brooke’s muted laughs next to me. “I’m going to say 3:32 p.m..”
The shop door dings open, causing us all to spin around quickly. I’m sure we’re all anticipating Reese to walk through the doorway, but Mr. and Mrs. Crisp step inside the bakery wearing their brightest smiles and carrying a large, elegantly-wrapped present.
“Happy anniversary,” I direct at them, setting my half-eaten cupcake on the counter. I glance over at Brooke who is finishing hers. “Can you grab their cake for me? It’s the German chocolate one.”
She gives me a thumbs-up, chewing animatedly before she walks into the back. Mr. Crisp places the gift he’s carrying next to my cupcake, sliding it closer to me as his wife flanks his side. “And happy wedding week to our favorite baker. This is for you, dear,” she says as she straightens out the white and gold ribbon on the top.
“For me? You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Oh, it’s nothing much. Just something small off your registry,” Mrs. Crisp says with a smile. “Don’t open it until we leave, though.”
Joey brushes his hands off before sliding the gift down the counter so it’s in front of him. “What a wrapping job. I can never get my corners straight.”
“You can’t get anything straight,” I counter through a teasing smile. He arches his brow playfully at me.
Brooke comes walking from the back, carrying the anniversary cake I made. She hands it off to me and I hold it over the counter, letting my two favorite customers examine it. Mrs. Crisp gasps softly, putting her hand up to her chest. “Oh, my. Dylan, this is so lovely,” she says, lifting her eyes to me. “Thank you so much.”
“German chocolate. My favorite.” Mr. Crisp grabs the cake and licks his lips. “I might just dive into this on the way home.”
“There’s extra coconut in the frosting just for you,” I direct toward him. His eyes enlarge as his grin spreads across his face. “And thank you for the gift. You really didn’t have to do that.”
Mrs. Crisp waves me off with her hand, her other tucking into the crook of her husband’s elbow. “We’re so happy for you, dear, and we hate that we can’t make it. Make sure you bring in lots of pictures when you get them developed.” She waves goodbye, Mr. Crisp winking at me before they slip out of the shop.
Joey slides the gift back over in front of me. “Go on. You know you want to.”
I look at him, then at the gift and decide that yes, I definitely want to. After tearing the paper and handing it off to Brooke who deposits it into the trashcan, I pop open the top of the box. Joey helps me shift the tissue paper around until I feel the smooth edge of something. I grab it with both hands and lift it out, smiling so big my cheeks begin to ache.
I place the hot-pink, brand new, industrial-size mixer on the counter. “Oh, wow. This wasn’t on my registry.”
“No, but you definitely needed this. I always said you should have more than one mixer,” Joey says, running his finger along the top of the handle.
“And it’s pink. I love that,” Brooke adds. “Every girl needs a pink mixer.”
I nod in agreement, lifting it off the counter and carrying it into the back. I slide it onto my shelf next to my beaten-down, ten-year-old mixer I still love as much as the first day I got it. Of course, it pales in comparison to this brand new one, but it will always be special to me.
Brooke comes walking into the back and steps up next to me. “Would it be okay if I watched you bake sometime? I’m really interested in learning how you whip up these incredible creations. That cupcake I just ate was insane.”
I grin boastfully at the compliment. “Sure. If you want, I could use some help tomorrow when I start the two wedding cakes. Joey can manage up front without you if you want to give me a hand.”
She places her hand on my arm, her face falling in surprise. “You’d let me help make your wedding cake? What if I mess it up?”
“Are you planning on messing it up?” I ask.
“No. But I can be a bit clumsy.”
I grip onto both her shoulders, gaining her full attention. “I’ll let you help out on the other wedding cake. How’s that sound?” She laughs, giving me half a smile. “Come on, let’s go finish those insane cupcakes.”
We did just that, Joey grabbing two more and polishing off the rest of the chocolate mousse ones. My eyes kept darting between the clock on the wall and the front door, especially when the bell would alert us of someone walking in. But Reese never came. He never stormed into the shop. He never hauled me over his shoulder in typical Reese fashion. He didn’t even call the shop number again. By the time 6:00 p.m. rolled around, I was no longer agitated with my quick-tempered fiancé or fuming over what happened with Bryce. After saying goodbye to Joey and Brooke, I took to the stairs with an emotion I didn’t plan on feeling the week of my wedding.
Disappointment.
After kicking off my shoes, I plop down on the bed and grab my cell phone I had discarded hours ago. Seventeen missed calls from Reese, all stopping around the time he called the shop phone. I scroll through his text messages, noting the time on them, as well. His last one to me was at 2:13 p.m. and it wasn’t the usual sweet and dirty text messages I’m used to receiving from him. I roll over onto my back, holding my phone out above me as I re-read it.
Reese: Ignoring my phone calls is really mature.
Yeah, well… okay, fine. It wasn’t my most mature moment. But him jumping down my throat about an outfit he thoroughly enjoyed was a bullshit move, especially after he got his rocks off on it. I get that this situation is irritating and making us both homicidal, but I was not at fault here. And right now, I’d really like hearing that from someone other than my inner self.
I close out Reese’s text message and pull up Juls’ contact info.
“Hey, sweets. It’s so weird you called. I was just thinking about you.”
I grab a pillow and stuff it underneath my head. “Oh, yeah? Let me guess. Ian filled you in on my afternoon of fun?”
The sound of chips crunching enters the phone. “Hmm? No. What afternoon of fun? Ian’s working late tonight, and I haven’t talked to him since before lunch.”
“I had a run-in with Bryce after giving Reese a lap dance in his office.”
The loud, crinkling sound of the chip bag fills my ear. “Chips aren’t cutting it. I need real food. Have you eaten yet?”
“Um, no. But did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes, and you can fill me in on every single detail when you meet me at Fletchers. I’m dying for a burger the size of my head.”
My mouth waters instantly. Carbs? Hell yes. Fuck you, salad. Nobody wants you. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, stepping into my ballet flats. “Okay. I’ll meet you in twenty.”
Standing up, I grab my keys off my kitchen counter, freezing in place when the BMW emblem catches my attention. I should tell Reese where I’m going. Even if I was avoiding him earlier, I’m not anymore. And coming home to an empty loft and not knowing where I am would surely make things worse. I open a text message as I lock my door behind me.
Me: Going out to dinner with Juls. Be home later.
After parking behind Juls’ black Escalade, I walk into Fletchers and spot her at a table in the back. She waves at me with one hand,
her other popping a few fries into her mouth.
“Sorry. I hope you don’t mind that I already ordered for us. I’m crazy hungry,” she says, chewing behind her hand.
“Not at all. You know what I like.” I grab a seat, taking a quick sip of my water and watching in amusement as my best friend inhales her plate of fries. “Pregnancy cravings kicking in?”
“Nah. I’ve just been busy all day with wedding stuff. This is my first actual meal today.” She pushes the plate of fries to the middle of the table and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “All right. Spill it.” She tosses her napkin onto the table before leaning back in her chair.
“Do you promise not to go into hurricane-mode in the middle of this restaurant?”
“Depends,” she replies, motioning with her hand for me to continue.
I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs to capacity. “Reese bought me a car and had it delivered to the shop this morning. But not just any car. A BMW.” A knowing smile spreads across her face, prompting me to lean forward with interest. “Did you know anything about that?”
She shrugs dismissively. “I may have given my opinion on car color. He was going mental trying to decide on his own.”
I picture his frustrated state and it brings a smile to my lips. “I can imagine. Anyway, I wanted to really wow him with a thank you for such an undeserving gift.”
She holds up her hand, halting my speech. “Dylan, you deserve the world and that man will give it to you. Don’t sell yourself short.”
I feel my cheeks flush at the compliment. Grinning, I issue her a wink and she gives me one in return. “So, I put on my sluttiest lingerie, covered myself with a trench coat, and went to his office.” I pause, crossing one leg over the other and seeing a small smile play at the corner of her mouth. “I gave him a lap dance, which he appreciated greatly at the time, and when I was leaving, Bryce got in the elevator with me. I would’ve been creeped out had he not touched me, but he did. He got right up against me and made crude comments about my outfit. And then he slid his finger down my neck.” I mimic his move and Juls shakes her head, her face taut and her fingers tapping on the table.
“What did you do?”
“Kneed him in the balls.”
“Good. Continue.”
“I knew I had to tell Reese about it, so I called him as soon as I got back to the bakery. And you know what he said? That I shouldn’t have been wearing that outfit and that I once again drew attention to myself. I didn’t even get to tell him what happened. Once he put the blame on me, I hung up on him. And then when he couldn’t get a hold of me on my cell, he called the shop phone and Joey told him Bryce touched me.” I glance down at the table cloth, rubbing my fingertip along the seam. “I was so pissed off at him for blaming me for it, but now that I haven’t seen or talked to him in over four hours, I’m not pissed. I’m hurt more than anything.”
“Because he made it seem like it was your fault for what happened?” I nod in response to her question. “I can see why you feel that way. It wasn’t your fault and Reese knows that. But he’s extremely protective of you; he always has been. And hearing that you were put into another situation with Bryce when he once again wasn’t around to protect you I’m sure infuriates him. And when guys get angry, they say shit they don’t mean. Ian does it all the time.” She takes a sip of her water, prompting me to do the same. “I can’t even begin to tell you how many petty arguments the two of us get into because he says stuff without thinking. I swear to God, I think testosterone has some sort of negative effect on all rational thought.” I laugh, grabbing a fry and popping it into my mouth. “I can’t believe that fucker touched you. Reese didn’t come to the shop after finding out that information from Joey?”
I shake my head. “No. And he stopped trying to get a hold of me. I’m actually considering calling the local jail to see if he’s been locked up.” I grab the small vase sitting on our table and place it on the empty table next to us. Juls gives me a questionable look and I remember she doesn’t know about the flower on my van. “After my fitting the other night, I found a rose on my windshield. I had this gut feeling it wasn’t from Reese. That’s so not something he would do. He’s way more romantic than that.”
Juls crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips. “That asshole put a flower on your van? That’s fucking disturbing, Dylan. You better call the police if he comes into your shop.”
“I will.” I had already decided that. There is no way I am going to let him into my bakery again. That prick has officially crossed the line.
“I was ready to kill that tool at the club when he was running his mouth. But now? I will seriously take pleasure in dismembering him. I’m not just stellar at planning weddings. I’m resourceful, too. I can make a shiv out of practically anything.”
I giggle at my heated best friend as the waiter arrives at the table with our meals. And then my laughter fades immediately as I survey the Cobb salad placed in front of me.
Goddamn it.
I grit my teeth, glancing up at Juls who is smiling widely at me, obviously finding my order humorous. “What the hell is this? I thought we were destroying burgers.”
“I never said we.” She points her manicured finger at me. “You have a dress to fit into, sweets. And as your Matron of Honor and wedding planner, it is my job to make sure everything goes as planned for Saturday.” She picks up her giant, heavenly-looking burger and brings it to her lips. “Besides, Joey told me you had three cupcakes today.”
I scowl at her as she takes a massive bite. “Seriously? He told you that?”
“Yup,” she says through a mouthful.
I grimace, poking my lettuce with my fork. “I don’t know how people eat this stuff all the time.”
She moans softly, catching an evil look from me. “Sorry,” she murmurs.
And I can’t help but laugh at the sight of her, thoroughly enjoying her burger and not caring in the least that she’s eating it like a caveman. All of her table manners have been left at the door as she takes bites that would rival Reese’s. I eventually dig into my salad after my stomach starts growling at me, but I don’t enjoy myself nearly as much as Juls. I do however enjoy her company and the conversation that stays far away from eerie elevator encounters. We talk about her upcoming doctor’s appointment and how excited she is to possibly hear the baby’s heartbeat. We talk about my wedding and the fact that my mother has also been harassing her with phone calls about last-minute alterations, and we wrap up our meal with talk of my honeymoon to the Cayman Islands. Two weeks with Reese in a bathing suit is the second thing I’m most excited about in terms of upcoming events. The fact that it’ll be my husband I’ll be staring at for those fourteen days is still strongly holding the lead.
As it should.
After saying goodbye to Juls, I head back to the loft, expecting to have it out with Reese as soon as I arrive. I mentally prepare myself for our discussion as I set the alarm at the front door before walking through the bakery and up the stairs. But when I step through the door, a dark, empty space greets me instead of his expectant scowl. And then I remember what Juls’ said about Ian working late. Reese is probably still stuck at the office, and when he does work late, he usually isn’t home until after 9:00 p.m., which gives me another hour before I could be expecting him.
I grab an empty box off the floor and sit it on the bed. Packing should help me pass the time, and even though Reese wanted to do this for me, he shouldn’t have to. This is my stuff, and I’ve accumulated a lot over the past three and a half years. I’m not a hoarder by any means, but I also am not one to throw away anything that holds even the tiniest bit of sentimental value. I’ve kept every movie stub, concert ticket, and playbill holding a Juls and Joey memory. I’ve kept every thank you note I’ve ever received from a customer. But probably my most prized possession is the tin I keep on my dresser that holds all of Reese’s love notes to me. I grab it, sitting down next to the box and popping off the lid on the tin. I
thrum through the contents with my fingers, scraping along the tops of the cards. Every now and then, I’ll blindly reach in and grab one, reading it and reliving every emotion I felt when I first opened the tiny brown card. I have every single note in here, even the first one he sent me that I thought I’d thrown away. But Joey had grabbed it for me while I was delivering my apologetic blow job in Reese’s office after slapping him for thinking he was married. I had no idea he kept it until he gave it to me at my bridal shower last month as part of my gift. I cried when I read it that day, which I suppose was funny considering how I reacted to it the first time. But that note started everything. If Reese hadn’t sent it to me with the bag of flour, I’m not sure what would’ve happened between us. Maybe we would’ve eventually seen each other again at some function involving our two best friends, but maybe not. So even though his first note to me is an apology for fucking up and not one that spells out how much he loves me, it’s still my favorite.
Next to the one he gave me with my engagement ring.
After packing up a good amount of clothes and what I won’t be using the next three days, I stack the boxes in the corner behind my decorative screen and get ready for bed. It’s almost 9:00 p.m., and even though I’d like to stay up and wait for Reese to get home, I know he’ll wake me up if he wants to talk about it tonight. And I’m too tired not to crash hard right now. This day has been exhausting, both mentally and emotionally, and as I cuddle up on my side of the bed, I find myself missing not only the wedding stress that was once my only concern, but also the man who blankets me better than any down comforter.
A loud, piercing noise jolts me awake and upright, and my body immediately goes rigid. I clamp my hands over my ears, muffling the noise as my eyes adjust to the dark room around me. I’m alone, Reese’s side of the bed is completely untouched, and it takes me several seconds to realize what’s happening. That noise. I haven’t heard it before but I know what it is. My shop alarm is going off, and I need to enter the code to stop it. I slide off the bed and run toward the stairs but freeze when my mind draws a conclusion to the reasoning behind the alarm.
