Cake: The Newlyweds: Cake Series Book Four

by J. Bengtsson

  “I’m fine,” I answered, covering for my weakness. “I think I had too much liquor.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  He didn’t believe me, but he also understood I wouldn’t be elaborating.

  “I’m guilty of everything you just accused me of. I haven’t been listening to you but, Quinn, I heard you tonight. And trust me when I say – you are good enough.”

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “I know I don’t. I’m speaking the truth. I admit I’ve been nearly non-existent in your life, but from now on, I’m going to do right by you, okay?”

  Clearly emotional from our exchange, Quinn dropped his head and nodded. I stepped forward and embraced him. At first shocked by my gesture, he tensed at my touch, but as I held on, my baby brother slowly relaxed. When I felt his arms go around my back, I knew I’d been forgiven. That’s how it was with family. The ties were always there; you just needed to remember to tighten them every once in a while.

  We broke apart and I slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got to get back to Casey. Are we good?”

  “Yeah,” he smiled, looking more relaxed than I’d seen him in a long time. “We’re good.”

  “And Quinn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That was a killer song. You’re the real deal, man.”

  I’d just rejoined Casey, who was deep into a conversation with her Uncle Alan about his spotty bowel movements, when Sam, Keith’s ex, wandered up to give me a hug.

  Sam was the gold standard girlfriend. Earthy was the best way to describe her. With long, sun-streaked hair, tan skin, and minimal make-up, she didn’t need much more than her natural self to be attractive. But it wasn’t her beauty that was the most remarkable thing about her. Whether for humans, animals, or environmental causes, Sam’s compassion was continually on full display. It was probably what had attracted her to Keith in the first place. He was a wounded soul in need of saving, and that was Sam’s specialty.

  The first time I met her, I knew she was different. I’d just returned home from my first tour and was trying to readjust to family life again when Keith introduced us. Interactions with strangers were awkward for me back then. Either the person was regarding me with pity or was promising me their undying love. Sam did neither. She treated me like any other teenage boy; she was the first person after the kidnapping, and outside the family, to make me feel normal.

  “Congratulations,” she said. “I couldn’t be happier for you and Casey. You’re hands down my favorite couple.”

  “Mine too,” I joked. “Damn, Samantha, it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  “I know,” she replied, dropping her head just a smidge and appearing genuinely sad. “I miss you guys so much. When Keith and I broke up, it was like losing half my family. I had a hard time of it. Thank god for Casey, so I can keep tabs on all of you.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.” I shifted uncomfortably, feeling strangely guilty. I had dropped her like a hot potato at the first mention of their break up. She’d been like family, but Keith was my flesh and blood, and my loyalty would always be to him. “It sucks you two didn’t work out.”

  There was no denying the look of pain that accompanied her solemn head nod. “Yes, it is.”

  “Samantha Anderson!” Casey squealed, enveloping her in a hug and saving me from trying to come up with something else to say to my brother’s ex. “You came, girl.”

  “Of course. Like I’d miss this for the world. Jake, you should have seen your face when Casey punked you in the church.”

  The three of us laughed. I still hadn’t quite gotten over it and couldn’t wait to return the favor.

  I felt a sudden movement. Keith had appeared by my side out of nowhere, giving me a tight squeeze on the shoulder to let me know what a douche I had been for conversing with the enemy. “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing. We were just making fun of Jake,” Casey said. “Like always.”

  Keith nodded and then turned to look at his ex for the first time. “Sam,” he said, tipping his head to her in greeting.

  “Keith,” she replied, mimicking his exact acknowledgement.

  “You look good.”

  “So do you.”

  Then silence. The four of us stood there awkwardly.

  “Well, this isn’t uncomfortable at all,” Casey said. “I just had a conversation about poop that was more stimulating than this.”

  “Well, here’s something that might be more pleasing to your ears.” Keith perked up. “Guess who showed up at the reception demanding to see her husband?”

  “Who?”

  “A certain bride, all dressed in crazy.”

  “No way!” I blurted out. “Jesus. Kyle was right.”

  “Sorry,” Sam interrupted. “But I feel that I’m missing a crucial element of this story.”

  “Jake has a second wife, of the horror movie variety,” Keith explained. “We passed her on the street on the way here, and she flashed us some serious tit.”

  “Only in the McKallister family,” Sam said, shaking her head as a huge smile appeared on her face. “See, this is what I miss about not hanging out with you guys.”

  “Breasts?” Keith asked, feigning ignorance.

  Sam laughed, spontaneously touching his arm, probably more out of habit than anything else. Realizing her mistake, she immediately pulled away, but not before locking eyes with Keith. The two stood there staring at one another for an uncomfortably long time. Casey poked me in the back, perhaps to initiate some sort of action on my part.

  “Casey and I need to go talk to her Aunt Betty about… um… her bunions.”

  That broke the spell between them, and Sam hugged us both before we left.

  “Bunions?” Casey said incredulously, whispering as we walked away.

  “I panicked. It was the only thing I could think of on short notice.”

  We both turned back toward Keith. He’d taken Sam to a corner, and they were in deep conversation.

  “So, is your heart set on a little bunion banter, or would you like a special surprise?”

  “What kind of surprise?”

  “Let’s just say it’s a blast from the past.”

  “Hopefully not from my past, Jesus,” I said, only half joking.

  “Our past, babe. I’m not a sadist, geez.”

  She led me to a table with a woman and her teenage daughter. The mother seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place her until she nudged her daughter and the girl turned around. Casey was smiling like a loon when realization hit me who these two were: the mother and daughter from London. They were the ones who’d kept Casey occupied while I performed and even saved her from being chucked out of the venue for ‘pretending’ to be my girlfriend. It had been a crucial weekend for us as a couple, and by the end of those three days, I’d fallen hard for the girl. So hard, in fact, that our lives would never be the same. In a roundabout way, this mother and daughter pair were a part of our love story, and it was a cool touch to add them to the guest list.

  “Do you remember us?” the mother asked, standing up to greet me. The daughter followed her lead.

  “I do. From London, right?” I reached my hand out to shake theirs. “I’m terrible with names, sorry.”

  “I’m Angela and this is my daughter…”

  Suddenly her name came to me, and I confidently blurted it out: “Lauren.”

  Both nodded enthusiastically, and Lauren, once a shy, introverted girl, caught my eye and I immediately noticed the difference in her. Not only was she wearing makeup and sporting a stylish haircut, but Lauren had also ditched the thick glasses and downward gaze that had given her the appearance of an insecure young teen.

  “You remembered!” she answered, a crimson blush coloring her cheeks. I smiled. There was the girl I remembered.

  “Thanks for coming all this way,” I said, attempting to reassure her that she was welcome.

  “We wouldn’t have missed it. After Casey invited us, I didn’t
sleep for weeks.”

  “Not only that, but it was a long time to keep a secret from her friends.”

  “Girl, I feel you.” Casey exhaled, blowing out a stream of relief. “I haven’t spoken a word of truth in months.”

  “Says the bride moments after exchanging her vows.”

  Casey gaped at me as if she were offended. “You’re the one who told me to lie.”

  “Not to me,” I said, protesting her faulty accusation. “I thought that was self-explanatory.”

  Mother and daughter watched our squabble with grins on their faces.

  “You two are exactly as I remember you,” Angela said.

  “For better or worse,” Casey replied, hugging Lauren to her. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s great to finally see you again in person.”

  Casey had periodically kept in touch with the girl over the years as a way to help bolster her self-esteem, but seeing Lauren now, so confident and outspoken, I wondered if she might have had more influence on Lauren than even she could have anticipated.

  “Well, when you get back home, you’ll need a picture to show around,” I said, standing on one side of Lauren as Casey got on the other.

  And as we hammed it up for the camera, I smiled in Casey’s direction. She had such a good heart. Inviting Lauren and Angela hadn’t been for our sake at all; it was to give Lauren another moment to shine. I grabbed Casey’s hand and squeezed.

  Boris ushered Casey and me to the side of the reception hall where the towering cake glimmered in white frosting. Although I’d seen the masterpiece from a distance, it wasn’t until I gotten closer that I saw the personalized touch that seemed to adorn every single thing at our wedding.

  Our initials, C + J, were carefully placed inside hearts that were formed by candy crystals. The hearts were scattered over the different layers. It was a simple image but the meaning for us was huge, symbolizing our unity. A ‘Cake’ cake. I hugged Casey to me. She beamed, and we kissed for the crowd.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Boris walk up with a smaller cake, and when I took a closer look at the clearly homemade confection, I laughed. It was one of my mom’s Betty Crocker cakes. I raised my brow to Casey. Could it be?

  She nodded. “Funfetti.”

  7

  Casey: Super-Sized

  Guests spilled out of the reception hall as we ducked into the limo and pulled away. I’d planned for nearly a year for the perfect wedding, and although there had been a few blips along the way, I couldn’t have been happier with the outcome. With Jake’s arm resting securely over my shoulder, we waved goodbye to all our family and friends, and I tilted my head toward my new husband and ran my finger over his handsome face.

  “Thank you for marrying me, Jake McKallister.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He tipped his head in return and gently brushed his lips past mine. That sparkle in his eyes was something I hoped to see every day for the rest of my life.

  “What was going through your mind while I was walking down the aisle? You looked so emotional.”

  Jake glanced at me and then quickly looked away, his face rife with the same sentiment as earlier. “This might sound weird, but once I got over the shock of seeing you walking toward me in that dress and looking so incredibly beautiful, I thought about the kid I used to be, sitting in the dark, alone and scared for my life. I couldn’t even have imagined having someone like you back then, but if I’d known you were in my future, maybe it would have been easier to get through all that.”

  The honesty of his words sent a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes. I wasn’t sure what sort of answer I’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. Although a generic answer wouldn’t have been Jake, either.

  “I wish I could have been there for you back then.”

  He squeezed my hand tighter. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

  The way he shifted uncomfortably and the grimace, which appeared out of nowhere, was indication enough that we were done discussing his time with Ray for now. He’d poured his soul out to me once, but that was a long time ago, and now I rarely, if ever, got anything more that these tiny snippets of truth. I’d given up pushing for details, as it usually just ended up in an argument about him dropping out of therapy. My greatest wish would be for him to be able to work through his issues completely, but I understood that it might be too much to ask of him. It was very possible that I would never know the full story, nor did I particularly want that information. Some things, I reasoned, were better left unsaid. It was hard enough hearing about this stuff happening to a stranger on the news, but when that person was someone you loved, it took on a whole new meaning. That being said, I was always willing to snatch up any piece of information he was willing to offer, no matter how tiny or insignificant.

  “What were you thinking walking down the aisle?” he asked, moving the focus away from him.

  My face immediately reddened, thinking about those moments. “Well, now I don’t want to say, because it’s a little shallow compared to your answer.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t shallow.”

  “Okay, well, when you were standing up there at the altar, looking smokin’ hot, I was thinking all my friends and family would be totally jealous, and that made me happy.”

  “Ooh, yeah,” he winced. “That was super shallow.”

  “I told you,” I said, pushing against him in retaliation for making me reveal my superficiality. “Wait, no, I change my mind. I was actually thinking about how lucky I was to have found you.”

  “Uh-huh, right.”

  “You don’t believe me?” I snubbed my nose up at him playfully. “I’m hurt.”

  At that moment, my stomach rumbled so loudly that it startled us both.

  “See, even your stomach doesn’t believe you.”

  “My stomach’s no traitor. It’s just hungry because I haven’t fed it much in the past day or so.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “To look good in my wedding dress, duh.”

  “Okay, now we’re back to the whole shallow thing, Casey.”

  “Fine, if you must know, my shallowness was something I was hiding from you until we got married. Surprise!” I splayed my fingers out like an explosion while adopting crazy eyes. “Have fun dealing with my shit for the rest of your life.”

  “Right back at ya!” he said, with perfect timing. We enjoyed a hearty laugh. One thing was for sure – we were quite the pair.

  “Why didn’t you eat at the reception, then?” he asked, laying his hand on my stomach.

  “I didn’t want to drop anything on my dress! Or, god forbid, smile and have parsley in my teeth. Now it doesn’t matter what I look like because I’m not trying to impress anyone anymore.”

  “Except me, your husband.”

  “Exactly, except you.”

  Jake shook his head at me, smiling. “You’re all Miss Snarky tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Mrs.”

  “Oh, right.”

  I turned excitedly in my seat, nearly jumping up and down on my designer clad bottom. “McDonald’s!” I screamed. And as I watched it pass by on the left hand side of the street, I placed both hands on the window and whispered with a sad little pout, “Big Mac. Fries.”

  Jake found that wildly funny, and when he stopped laughing, said, “Maybe I’m reading you all wrong, but did you want to stop at McDonald’s?”

  “Wow, Jake, you’re like a mind reader.”

  “Did someone have a little too much champagne tonight?”

  I shrugged, but in reality, I was barely drunk. It was more just that I was giddy with life.

  Jake called out to the driver and his security guy in the front seat. “Can you please get this woman to the nearest golden arches?”

  After completing an illegal U-turn, the driver pulled into the parking lot, and I cheered. I was one step closer to the first solid food I’d eaten in about a week. Our limousine pulled into the drive-thru, and I rolled down my w
indow, eager to give my order, but the narrow drive-up lane made navigation difficult. Jake and I exchanged an amused glance as the driver backed up and pulled forward multiple times in an embarrassing effort to make my fast food dream a reality. It soon became clear that we’d gotten horribly wedged between a concrete retaining wall and the ordering screen. More and more cars lined up behind us. Now there was no way out but forward, and that seemed impossible, given the circumstances.

  “Oh, my god,” I whispered, in an attempt to quell the giggles that were fast approaching. “Tell me this is not happening right now. Are we seriously stuck in the drive-thru at McDonald’s?”

  “It definitely appears that way,” Jake said. “And you want to hear something even better? See that car right there?”

  I looked over at the wine-colored sedan he was pointing at and nodded.

  “That’s paparazzi.”

  “No!”

  “Yep.” He nodded. “And so is the blue one over there. I can see the flash bulbs going. This will be on TMZ by morning.”

  That’s when the laughing began. Mine, that is. I felt the rise of hysteria slowly creeping up, and soon I’d dissolved into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. I could picture the memorable headline: Jake McKallister Trapped in Drive-through on Wedding Night. The thought only made me laugh harder, setting off an intense urge to pee.

  Jake didn’t seem nearly as amused by the jam we found ourselves in, peering intently out the windows while the rescue efforts took place. His security guard had already hopped out of the limo to offer help, as did a man from the car behind ours. Still, we were making very little progress. For every forward movement, the limo had to take a similar backward one. After several minutes, we were no closer to freedom.

  By now, three photographers were out of their cars, snapping pictures of our predicament.

  “At least they can’t see inside,” Jake said, bravely looking on the bright side.

  “Um, yeah, about that. I have to tinkle.”