What Comes After Dessert

by Ren Benton

  Emblazoned across her chest were the words ASK ABOUT MY D-CUP CAKES. “Today’s special is jumbo vanilla cupcakes filled with fresh raspberry mousse, frosted with white chocolate buttercream, and topped with a glazed raspberry. Two for ten, one for each hand.”

  His expression wavered between amusement and umbrage. “Whose idea was that?”

  “Mine. Can’t you tell by the exorbitant price?”

  The bakery had been losing money for a year. Employees saw the end coming and deserted it like a sinking ship. Tally was warned during her interview that it might be only a couple of months before they closed and she would be out of work again.

  Since there was nothing to lose, Tally made some suggestions. The first had been repainting stark white walls out front a warmer vanilla cream, livened up with pink polka dots and chocolate stripes. The result was inviting and feminine, seemed to universally appeal to every sweet tooth, and — most importantly to the owner — cost next to nothing to pull off.

  High off that success, she suggested sexing up the menu by renaming the goods and giving people something to talk about that would stick in their memories. They could get a brownie anywhere, but only the Downsy Daisy Bakery sold Coconut-Pecan Orgasms.

  She expected to get fired over the T-shirt, but the boss’s response had been “Where’s mine?” The remaining staff consisted of three amply-endowed women other than Tally, all of whom were less self-conscious about encouraging strangers to read their breasts and thought the shirts were funny.

  The sweet boy with the dirty sense of humor who didn’t want her to be exploited remained on the fence.

  She leaned toward him, and he followed suit, until their noses nearly met over the display case. “Ben, it’s fine. When you’re not working in a place where people pay to look at tits or a place where people look down on you because you worked in that other place, most people are pretty cheerful about boobs.”

  Finally, his eyes crinkled. “I know I am.”

  “I sell most of them to women who think it will be cute for their fellas. Men with tact are too embarrassed to ask.”

  “Give me four.”

  “You only have two hands.”

  “I like my hands full in the morning, too.”

  Her skin heated all over. Knowing Ben, he really did eat cupcakes hand over fist for breakfast, so her body was projecting its own likes regarding his hands.

  She retreated behind the counter before she said to hell with the audience, slipped her fingers around the back of his neck, and greeted him the way she wanted to.

  He rocked back on his heels as if he needed a little distance, too. “How much more settling in do you need to do?”

  She tucked his cupcakes into their own box. “I need some throw pillows and something for the walls so my apartment looks less like transient housing.”

  “I have a couch that smells like a tire fire. I’m the last person who’d criticize your interior design aesthetic.”

  “It’s symbolic. Evidence I don’t plan on running away.” Proof for herself, more than him, that she could change her life if she chose to. “Even if all you had to say to me was that I’d blown it for the last time and you found someone else.”

  Her boss, the eponymous Daisy, emerged from the kitchen to investigate the service slowdown. “Everything okay out here?”

  Tally cringed at being caught slacking on the job. She was liked but not indispensable if she didn’t pull her weight.

  Ben flashed his panty-incinerating smile. “I’m notoriously picky. She’s being very patient with me.”

  Dazed, Daisy pitched in to help the next customer. “Carry on, then.”

  The smile vanished, and he focused on Tally as if there had been no interruption. “Would you go back to Westard if I was stupid enough to say that to you?”

  Her temperature went up another degree, and she thought the elevation might be warranted this time. “You’re showing your cards a little bit there, Fielder.”

  “Told you I’m not much of a gambler. Would you?”

  She knew the answer, but it wouldn’t come out without a nudge. “Have you? Moved on?”

  “It’s easy to move on when the loss doesn’t leave me in pieces. You break me and walk off with the shards. What’s left isn’t fit for anyone else.”

  Checking that fear off the list gave her enough courage to inch forward. “I won’t go back. I didn’t leave for you. You just gave me the kick in the ass I needed to do it for myself. You’re the reason I came here, though.”

  He jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans as if they needed to be restrained. “Have you proven to yourself you can handle it?”

  “I have moments of panic still, but I handle it.” Maintaining her C-plus across the board, even if it wasn’t obvious to others. “You’re not convinced?”

  “I’ve never doubted your ability to do anything. You’re the most fiercely competent person I know, which is why it blows my mind you believe there’s anything you can’t do.”

  The systematic destruction of her confidence was the most damaging thing her mother had done to her, impairing every aspect of her life. She was having to become fully functional after a lifetime of being convinced she was paralyzed. The muscles were atrophied and moved mostly by force of will, but they did move and got a little bit stronger with each workout.

  Daisy scooted around her to get to the cash register with her customer.

  Ben hunched his shoulders at the reminder he was holding up the line. “I should go before I get you in trouble. When are you done here?”

  “Half an hour, give or take.”

  “Is it okay if I wait for you?”

  “Yes” shot out of her mouth before he finished the question.

  Showing her cards a lot.

  She stacked five boxes by the cash register and rang up his total as soon as Daisy stepped aside. “Are you sure you want all of this?”

  “I was told to bring a ton.”

  Her eyes flicked from the keyboard to his face. “Do you have to be somewhere?”

  “Yes. I’ll be right outside.” His fingers seared hers with the exchange of money. “See you soon.”

  When he was gone, Daisy looked her way and rolled her eyes. “I hate customers like that.”

  Tally thought about pocketing Ben’s number tile instead of dropping it in the box, but she didn’t need a keepsake when the man was waiting for her. It clacked into the pile. “I love that customer.”

  “That’s why I belong in the back and you’re in sales.” Daisy did a head count of the customers still waiting. “Business is better than it’s been since opening. You’re doing a great job.”

  It was hard to play nonchalant when praise made her cheeks look like a couple of red velvet cookies. “Think I’ll still have one in two months?”

  “Fingers crossed. I’d like to make it through at least one change of seasons to see how your limited-time-only menu goes over.”

  Even if Tally had to look for another job soon, she would have two good references. She would find something else. She would be fine.

  She sent the last customers out the door laden with baked goods, and Daisy locked the door behind them. “Mr. Picky is lurking across the street. Should I call the cops?”

  “He’s harmless.”

  “How well do you know him? He drives an asshole car.”

  “He has a minivan?”

  “Hey,” her minivan-driving boss protested. “I suppose he’s welcome as long as he buys that much every time he comes in. Get out of here.”

  Tally typically stayed to help clean up, which went much faster with four people toiling at it, but they could manage without her this one time. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

  She grabbed her backpack, left through the back door, and ran around to the front of the building. She slowed at the corner to look for Ben, but once she found him leaning against not-a-minivan parked in front of the bail bonds office, there was no point pretending to be cool. She ran the rest
of the way to him.

  He stood when he saw her coming. “Unless there’s a guy with a knife chasing you, you didn’t have to run.”

  She came to a halt a few feet in front of him, her shortness of breath only partly due to the exertion. “You’ve been waiting a long time.”

  “You’re worth waiting for.”

  She wanted that to be true. “I’ll try not to disappoint you this time.”

  “You’re here. I’m as far from disappointed as it’s possible to be.” His jaw clenched in a way that didn’t suggest happiness. “How long, Tal?”

  “Since I regretted saying awful, untrue things to you? Before they even came out of my mouth. Since I knew I had to find a way to be here? The day after. Since I’ve been in Seattle?” She took a step closer. “Three weeks.”

  He released his breath in a hiss. “Can I touch you to make sure you’re real?”

  She laid her hand on his chest. He covered it with one of his, pressing it flat against his skittering heart. His other hand came up to her face, hovering over her skin as if he feared she really was a mirage.

  She turned her cheek into his palm, and his fingers flexed, holding her there. Her throat tightened with emotion. “I never should have let you go.”

  His thumb grazed her lips, stopping shy of the spot she’d chewed raw. “You’ve had a hold on me since the day we met. Sometimes your grip slackens, but you have never let me go.”

  She let her bag slide off her shoulder so she could wrap her arm around him unencumbered. The weight of the rest of her baggage dragged on her tongue, but she’d been training for this event for weeks. “I love you.”

  His breath whooshed out like he’d been punched in the gut. “Tally.”

  “I always have. You were everything I wasn’t. Bold, daring, fearless. You were perfect. And when you paid attention to me, for a minute, I felt perfect, too.”

  She shook from the effort, but she felt a little lighter. Maybe that was the point of sharing.

  His other hand followed the curve of her face. “Except when you thought I was teasing you or trying to get you in trouble.”

  “You never let me get in trouble, and you never let anyone else pick on me.” She’d been so unfair to assign vicious intent to him. “At the time, half the people I was closest to hurt me all the time. My mother was only nice to set up her next act of cruelty. I couldn’t imagine any reason you would be nice to someone like me without an ulterior motive.”

  “Someone like you. Smart, talented, funny, supportive, sweet-natured, beautiful...”

  “That’s not the list of adjectives I heard ten times a day.”

  “It will be.”

  This time, dangling a future in front of her didn’t seem cruel. The promise made her brave enough to talk through the next flare of anxiety that seared her chest. “Any little bruise, even figuratively speaking, was a warning to stay away. I got so good at keeping my distance, I didn’t know how to do anything else, even when I wanted to be close to you. I’m still not sure I can do anything different, but I’m here to try. I want a life, and I hope you still want to be one of the people in it.”

  His fingers combed into the hair at her temples. “Couldn’t tell you one other thing I’ve ever wanted, but fair warning — I won’t be so easy to get rid of this time.”

  Relief made her eyes watery. “Good. I’m bound to screw up, but I’ll keep trying as long as you’ll give me another chance.”

  “I’ll give you anything you’ll accept. If chances are what you want, you can have all of them. As long as you want to try, I’ll never be out of reach. I will never give up on you. I’ve tried. I can’t do it. Now I just have to make you believe I love you.”

  “You must, or you would have run away screaming at the sight of me. I don’t understand why, but I don’t have to understand love to accept it.”

  “Saying everything I want to hear doesn’t help convince me I’m not dreaming.”

  “Want me to pinch you?”

  “No. Keep going.”

  She must be doing at least a C-plus job for him to want more. “I couldn’t burden you with being my reason for living. Like my mother.”

  He stiffened. “I never wanted to control you like that.”

  She shook her head. “Not you, Ben. Me. Someone with no self, who’s empty inside, needs someone else to control. And you would have let me as long as I didn’t leave you. I would have ruined you. And if we had a child—”

  “You are not like your mother.”

  “I’m not going to be. I have a self now. I have this.” She removed her hand from his chest long enough to gesture toward the bakery. “It’s not a grand purpose, but it’s more than I had for myself before. Better than nothing.”

  “I think it’s the best thing anyone has ever done.”

  He was easily impressed — thank god for modest aspirations. “I don’t have much to offer you, yet, but I promise I’ll give this time, not just take.”

  “You’ve got it all backward. You never took anything from me. I thought you didn’t want anything I had to give.”

  “I wanted time with you. You gave me that.”

  “You could have had all of it.”

  “I was afraid I’d hold you back.”

  “Having you with me makes me better at everything.”

  It was you, wasn’t it? He did all of it to impress you.

  Without him, she would still be entrenched in her rut. “You make me want to be better, too.”

  “I’m sorry I was harsh with you.”

  “You can’t compensate for my mother by babying me when I’m hurting you. It’s okay to get angry when I’m that wrong. It’s okay to fight when it’s worth fighting for.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t ever wake me up from this.”

  “I can probably resist pinching, but sooner or later, I’m going to climb your tower and kiss you.”

  His lips pursed and shifted to the side to discourage kissing. “You make it hard — by which I mean difficult — not to say something that will sound like I’m cheap with my affections.”

  “Don’t hold back on my account. I might not be as far along as you are because I’m a coward, but I want to be where you are. I’ll do whatever it takes to get there.”

  “I’m not going to leave you behind. I don’t want to be in a place. I want to be with you.”

  She’d thought she had to be in the perfect place before they could be together. It never occurred to her they could get there together. Where she was now was pretty damn good as long as he was there, too. “Want to come home with me, Sleeping Beauty?”

  “Not until you get your symbolic pillows.”

  “That doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “You weren’t ready to see me half an hour ago.”

  “But look at me coping like a champ.”

  “I’m looking, and I’m suitably impressed.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “I was expected at Liz and Will’s for dinner and dessert and whatever comes after that.”

  Her brows went up. “Sounds kinky. I’ll have to put that on the menu board as soon as I think of a food decadent enough to deserve the name.”

  “I volunteer to taste test the contenders.”

  There he went again, making more promises about tomorrow.

  She dragged her hands down his body. They lingered on his narrow hips before dropping to her sides. “Well. Your friends will be worried about you.”

  “They’ve been worried for a while. Want to go meet them so they can stop?”

  One hand came up to fuss with the neckline of her T-shirt. Ben had seen her look much worse and didn’t seem to mind, but his friends surely expected him to do better than a grubby baker wearing a suggestive advertisement. “I don’t want to make a bad impression on two of the most important people in your life. Maybe it ought to wait until I’m—”

  “You’re perfect. You’ve broken my heart twice, but no amount of damage to the container can empty i
t. That’s how lovable you are. They’ll love you, too, no matter when you meet them.”

  He would never put her in a situation where he expected her to get hurt, or where he would have to choose between her and his friends, or where she would think it would be best for him if she left.

  She might always be unsure of herself, but she’d never allowed Ben be sure on her behalf before. To hold her hand when she stumbled. To tell her he believed she could do anything.

  And to leave the choice of taking the next step to her.

  She took the step. “All right. Let’s go.”

  His grip tightened. “Really?”

  Someday, he wouldn’t be surprised when she was a team player. “I’ve survived worse things than cupcakes with your friends.”

  He averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. About that.”

  “You ate the cupcakes, didn’t you?”

  He gave an exaggerated gasp. “You think I can’t be left alone with twenty pounds of sugar for half an hour without getting into it?”

  She kissed him — not on the cheek, not on his chin, but right on the mouth. No hesitation. No fear of rejection.

  No hiding the taste of buttercream-and-raspberry guilt.

  He took a deep breath — and spent most of it on another kiss before he got around to his excuse. “I ate a cupcake and gave the rest of the box to my new friend with the face tattoo to share with his bail bondsman.”

  “You’re a sweet boy.” She twined her fingers with his. “We’ll have to put our heads together and come up with something else to keep your hands full in the morning.”

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