She nodded. “I absolutely do.” She could hear the hint of emotion roughening her voice. “Come on, before I get mushy.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Do you promise to get mushy later?”
She elbowed him, and he laughed as he guided her to the makeup and wardrobe trailer with a hand on the small of her back.
Just think about today, she told herself. Just today.
Maybe if she repeated that often enough, she’d be able to look at him and not think about what it was going to be like when she didn’t have him. When he left for good. And she didn’t leave with him.
Chapter 17
“I think that’s good,” Charlotte said as she rolled out the dough on Lani’s kitchen counter. “Cross-country trip. Long flight. Very good.”
“But ... traveling together. All the way to the West Coast and back. I don’t know, Char. Maybe I should have said no. If I stayed here by myself for two days, it would give me a chance to put all this in better perspective. Find some balance to the wild feelings I’m having.”
Charlotte smiled, looking off into space for a moment. “Wild feelings aren’t so bad.”
Lani worked the pastry blender a little harder. “For you, sure. You and Carlo will both be heading back to live in the same city.”
“After he goes on the road with Baxter for two months.” Charlotte sighed. “Two months.”
Lani glanced at her friend. “You know, my panic attacks aside, I meant what I said before. I’m so happy for you. And Carlo. I don’t know how it happened, but I’m glad it did.”
“Me, too.” Charlotte smiled sweetly sincere. “I wasn’t even looking, or thinking about that. Well, I was thinking about sex. I always think about sex. But I came here for you, not sex.”
“For which I am grateful. Both parts.”
“I stopped by Laura Jo’s after I saw you on set yesterday, to pick up something to take back to your place for dinner—you really have nothing here to eat that isn’t made of flour, butter, and sugar—and Carlo was doing the same. We started talking and”—she shrugged, and went back to rolling dough—“things just happened. I have no idea why I didn’t look at him that way before. It’s the only way I can look at him now.”
“You didn’t look at guys like Carlo at all before, that’s why. You looked through them to the guy standing behind, the one who wouldn’t stick around.”
“I know you’re right. Maybe it took coming here, being out of that environment, seeing things out of context, for me to even think about it. If our paths had crossed at some grocer in the city, I know we wouldn’t have struck up a conversation. I don’t operate that way when I’m running errands or working. I just ... I wouldn’t have stopped and noticed him. Much less talked to him.”
“What matters is that you have now.”
“Yes.” Charlotte had that private smile, the one Lani recognized, because she’d had one of her own of late.
A few minutes later, after they’d retreated to their own thoughts for a bit, Charlotte said, “Do you really think, when you’re done taping, that you’re going to be able to just let him walk away?”
Lani paused in the middle of blending the brown sugar and butter. “I don’t have a choice.” She wanted to rub at the tight pinch in her chest, but she went back to grinding instead.
“You always have a choice.”
“We’ve already been over this,” Lani said, a bit wearily. She and Charlotte had talked it through already once this evening, and Lani had already thought it through a thousand times before that.
“I know. I just ... think there should be a way.”
“A long distance relationship isn’t going to work,” Lani said. “For either one of us. We’re too much to settle for that.”
“So, you’ll take your too much-ness and settle for nothing?” Charlotte rolled with a bit more vigor than was absolutely required. “That makes no sense to me. None at all.” Her accent grew sharper the more she rolled the dough.
“I’m just trying to be realistic. It’s a fairy tale right now, while we’re here. But my moving back to New York isn’t going to work for me. Is he just going to give up his entire career and move to Georgia? And do ... what? I mean, Charlotte, trust me, I want there to be a solution. I’m looking forward to every day I’ll have with him and simultaneously dreading every minute that goes by, knowing it puts me one minute closer to the end. That’s what I meant about letting him go to L.A. by himself. I don’t want to lose that time, but maybe it would be smarter to pace ourselves a little. Maybe both of us will cool off a bit, regain a little perspective.”
Charlotte’s snort told her all she needed to know about her opinion on the matter. “I just say that what you do isn’t all of who you are. A large part, yes, but not all. There is more to life, more to happiness. I know, coming from me, that sounds ludicrous. But I’m thinking differently today. Very differently.”
“I know,” Lani said quietly.
“I just think that when you find something special like this, you make compromises, you find a way. Maybe you’ll find that you won’t mind living in the city again, if it means having Baxter in your life.”
“Trying to start up my own place there? Char, I’d have to look out in the boroughs for a place. I don’t have the start-up capital for a place in the city. Not to mention what I have tied up here. I just opened, for God’s sake. Even if I could open up a place right smack in the middle of town, the prospect of doing that there doesn’t excite me, not even a little bit.”
Charlotte looked up. “What about going back to Gateau? You don’t want to run a shop in the city, fine. I understand that. It wouldn’t be anything like what you’re doing here. So, maybe you do something different altogether. Maybe not Gateau, either. Be a private chef. Cater.”
“I don’t think it would work,” Lani said, giving voice to the same conclusion she’d already come to privately. “Not in the long run. Being a pastry chef might not be all I am, but it’s a big part of it. And, now, so is having my own place. My own small, off the beaten path place. I don’t know if I can convert back to city pace. And city clients.”
“Of course you could,” Charlotte said. “But you don’t want to. You want what you already have. I’m just asking, do you want that more than you want Baxter?”
Lani was saved from answering that question by a short knock on her front door. It was early enough that it could be anybody. Except that Baxter was dining with Alva, and Charlotte had opted to therapy bake with her, then meet up with Carlo when Lani went to meet Baxter. And Dre actually had a date herself that night—with a guy who was just a friend, she’d made sure to stipulate. They were attending a signing by a comic book artist in Savannah. “I don’t know who that is,” Lani murmured as she rinsed her hands and wiped them on her apron. “Coming,” she called out, as the rapping repeated.
She opened the door. “Dad? Is everything okay?”
“Of course. Can’t I drop by and see my baby girl?”
“Of course you can, it’s just ... you never come here.”
“Because your shop is close to the station house and you’re always there.”
“Right.” She stepped hastily back. “Come in. Charlotte and I are baking tarts for the viewing party tomorrow night.”
“Good, fine.”
Lani smiled to herself as she stepped back to let him into the house. “You can be our taste tester.”
“Don’t think I’ll be here that long,” he said. “Just stopped by to check in. Make sure things are going okay.”
“That’s ... good.” Lani frowned briefly. Something was up, she just wasn’t sure what. Yet. “I’m fine. Filming today went a lot better than yesterday. I guess you heard about the viewing party tomorrow.”
“I’ve heard. Also heard you were going to Los Angeles. With Chef Dunne.”
Ah. So that’s what this is about. “I’m thinking about it. Sounded like fun.”
Her dad shifted his weight on his feet, and didn’t meet her ga
ze directly, but was clearly determined despite being obviously uncomfortable. “So, about Dunne ...”
He let that trail off, and Lani knew exactly what he was hoping for. That she’d spell out exactly what was going on between them, so he wouldn’t have to come out and ask. “Dad, if you’re asking if we’ve started to see each other, outside of working on the show, then yes. We have.”
He did meet her gaze then. “And you’re going off to L.A. with him.”
“For two days, yes. Probably. Dad, I am a grown woman. You do know that I—”
“Of course I do,” he said gruffly. “But I also know ...” He trailed off, then sighed deeply, and seemed to regroup. He held her gaze directly. “I know how you felt about him, LeiLei. And I just ... I don’t want you hurt. Does he know? He’s not just thinking you’re ... available?”
Lani didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry. Instead, she impulsively hugged him. After a second of surprise, he hugged her back. Tightly. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed that, until right at that moment. She squeezed back, then let him go. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Dad. He cares about me as much as I care about him.” She blinked away the threat of tears. “He’s taking very good care of me. You’d approve. Okay?”
“Okay.” He looked down at the floor again. “So ... does this mean that when this hoopla is over, you’ll be going back to New York?”
“Oh.” Lani realized he’d been worried about a lot more than just who his daughter might be sleeping with. “Dad, I—no. I don’t think so, no.”
He looked at her again. “You don’t think so.”
She sighed, not sure if he was happy about the prospect of her staying, or dismayed that she wasn’t going to go back to the career she’d had in the city. “No, Dad,” she said quietly. “I don’t.” That was all she was willing to say. All he probably wanted to hear. Whether he liked it or was disappointed wasn’t going to change her answer, so there was no point in prodding.
“Okay then,” he said, after an awkward moment or two of silence. “I’ll, uh, let you get back to your baking then. I’ll see you at the shindig tomorrow.”
“Oh, good, you’ll be there.” She was grateful for the change of subject.
“We’ll want increased presence, in case things get out of hand. Not usual to have all this attention and activity. People do stupid things.”
“True.” She tipped up on her toes and bussed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”
His cheeks turned a bit ruddy. “I don’t know for what. You can take care of yourself.”
Lani smiled, and followed him to the front door. “I can, but I like knowing you’re looking out for me, all the same.”
He nodded, and then he was gone.
Lani closed the door, and pressed her forehead against it.
“He loves you,” Charlotte said.
Lani straightened and turned to find Charlotte standing in the hall that led to the kitchen. “I know. I just ... hate thinking he’s disappointed I’m not having a big career in the city, and I hate thinking he’s worried I’m going to get my heart broken. It’s lose-lose at the moment.”
“He’s a grown man; he can handle himself,” Charlotte said, echoing what Lani had just told her father.
“I know. But I feel like he’s been through enough. He shouldn’t have to worry about me.”
“He’s your father. That’s his job. Come on, we need to get the tart crusts crimped.”
Lani followed her into the kitchen, thankful for the task at hand. “You know, a week ago, everything was fine and dandy in my world. How did that all change so fast?”
The changes seemed to come faster from that point onward. Friday night with Baxter was every bit as wonderful as the previous night. Charlotte had gone off to stay with Carlo, with clear instructions to Lani not to wait up for her. But Lani had opted to meet Baxter over the shop after his dinner with Alva, which he’d recounted in delightful and colorful detail as they’d sipped wine ... and each other. She wasn’t ready to have him in her home, in her bed. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for that. Memories were one thing, and taped cooking shows, yet another. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to compound all of that by creating memories in the place where she lived. It was enough that they were spending twelve hours a day in her shop kitchen.
To that end, Saturday’s taping had gone quickly and, even by Lani’s standards, pretty damn well. Rather than an awkward obstacle, it seemed her relationship with Baxter had relaxed her in front of the cameras. They laughed easily, the banter between them came quite naturally, and she didn’t feel so self-conscious.
She’d decided she simply wasn’t going to think about what he’d said, about their chemistry or the sexual tension, or whatever it was he claimed they had together on tape. Rosemary was more chipper than Lani thought was humanly possible, and that outweighed everything else. Including the notion that her love affair was being permanently recorded. She’d decided to give herself permission not to think about that either, and had made excuses both times she’d been invited into the production trailer to look at footage.
Baxter had immediately keyed in to her discomfort, but hadn’t pressed her to talk about it, which she appreciated. She didn’t want him to take her lack of attendance as a personal insult, but he hadn’t seemed to. In fact, he’d run interference with Rosemary and gotten her out of the other requests to view tape.
They’d taken their relationship fully public at the viewing party. As Lani had predicted, Stewies had been packed past capacity almost from the start, which had made her father and his deputies a bit irritated as they’d had to turn folks away. In the end, the party had just extended outside, into the street. Baxter had gone out and shaken hands and talked to everyone, then Bernard had saved the day by hooking up a big monitor screen outside Stewies, so the outdoor partiers could watch the show, too. They’d already closed off the part of the square in front of the restaurant to traffic, so it turned into a block party.
The crowd had been boisterous, but all in good spirits, and when the credits had rolled at the end, they’d all clapped. When Baxter had pulled Lani into his arms and kissed her soundly, the applause had turned to cheers.
And she hadn’t minded at all. In fact, she’d loved every minute of it.
If only everything could have stayed just like that.
Two days later they were in Baxter’s rental car, bleary eyed and sleep deprived from the long flight from the West Coast. “I can’t believe we aren’t home yet,” Lani murmured, her head resting on Baxter’s shoulder as he drove, her eyes blessedly closed.
“Right,” Baxter agreed, sounding just as raspy and fatigued as she did.
He’d given a string of radio show interviews, taped segments for two local talk shows, then, to her surprise, had done a taped bit that was going to air on the Late, Late Show with Jimmy Kimmel. She’d been well aware of his celebrity status, but hadn’t experienced it firsthand, not the way she had the past two days. Viewing-party kiss notwithstanding, they’d stuck to their plan to appear in public as professionals, but rather than leaving her behind at the hotel, Baxter had taken her with him everywhere, and introduced her as, well, exactly who she was. The chef who used to run his place in New York, and whose new little cupcake shop in Georgia was going to be featured in the premiere of the next season of Hot Cakes.
It had been great promotion for her, and had explained, for the most part, why she was traveling with him, though she wasn’t sure they’d really fooled anybody. She supposed it remained to be seen if anyone popped up once they were back on Sugarberry, but, so far, there didn’t seem to be any press trailing them back home.
Home.
It was funny, Lani mused, as the lulling motion of the taxi and Baxter’s big, warm body threatened to pull her into a light doze, but in a short time, Sugarberry really, truly had become home. Not her parents’ home, or her ancestral home, but her home. Where her shop was, her little cottage, and the people who would since
rely welcome her back ... and whom she’d sincerely missed while she was gone.
She’d felt that way about her home in D.C., where she’d grown up. But, she realized, she’d never felt that way about her dinky little place in New York. And she’d been so proud, when she’d finally earned enough to be able to rent a place in the city. It hadn’t felt like home, so much as the place where she was making her mark, building her career. It was just where she was supposed to be, a sign of her growth and success as a chef.
That was why, when she thought about going back, it didn’t connect with her anymore. She had nothing left to do there, to prove there. She’d done what she’d gone there to do. It had never been home.
The next thing she knew, Baxter was nudging her awake. “We’ve arrived, luv.” He shifted her upright and kissed her on the temple while she cleared the cobwebs and oriented herself.
“Right,” she said. “Good.”
Baxter smiled and took her hand and squeezed it as he parked behind the production trailer. He slid out, then guided her out after him. “I’ll get the bags.” He paused then. “I should have asked—thought. Did you want to be dropped at the cottage? I was just thinking of our room over the shop and—”
She shook her head. Our room. She smiled. Not home, but something that was just theirs. At the moment, she’d take that. “No, no. This is fine. I’ll have Charlotte bring my car over later. She can grab a ride back with Carlo, though I haven’t talked to her since yesterday, so she might have plans.” She shrugged it off. “We’ll work it out.” She pushed her hair back and took a breath of the sweet, humid, Georgia air. It had been so much drier out west, she hadn’t realized how used to the warmer, moister air she’d gotten. “Did you want to go to the B&B?” she asked, as the thought belatedly occurred to her.
Baxter had moved a few things over to their upstairs room, but hadn’t officially moved out of the bed and breakfast, partly for appearance’s sake, as they hadn’t really gone public until the night before they’d left for L.A. But mostly because he didn’t want the Hugheses to suffer the loss of revenue.
Sugar Rush Page 28
