by Tif Marcelo
He let out a breath. “That makes me feel better.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You’re a chef. Whenever I bake, I always hope that I don’t sacrifice taste for decor. Your praise means a lot.” His voice was low, almost seductive, and her upper chest warmed.
“Tell me more,” she said, to cool the moment. She was here to taste cake, not to ogle him. “About the shop. What are you raising money for?”
He seemed to recalibrate, and the expression on his face changed. He reached behind him, to the shop countertop, and snagged a brochure, setting it in front of her. “We’re starting a nonprofit, in conjunction other Old Town businesses. There’s still quite a bit left to do when it comes to equity within education. Most schools in our district require the use of tablets and computers, and many loan them out to kids, but oftentimes they’re not in great condition. We’re trying to get tablets to each child in our local schools.”
“What a great idea.”
“We hope it will be. Carolina and I didn’t have much growing up. Anyway, we’re just at the beginning, so we haven’t yet announced it on our socials. Though it’s made for some late nights while we fundraise.”
This was the first Henry had brought up his childhood; Regina realized then that the expression on his face? It was pride. The same kind of pride she held for The Perfect Day Catering. “Wow.”
His smile dimmed. “Then why the frown?”
Was she frowning? “I… It’s nothing.”
“Eh, I don’t think it’s nothing.” He reached across the table. “What’s up?”
She shook her head. “This was your moment. I don’t want to make it about me—”
“It’s our moment. After all, this is a conversation. I want to hear what you’re thinking.”
She waited for a sarcastic remark, reminiscent of her “conversations” with Logan way back then, when they either fought or she’d backed off to avoid silence. But none of that came. “I’ve told you about my three-year limit to my business.”
He nodded. “A self-imposed limit.”
“Yes. It lines up with the renewal of my commercial-kitchen lease contract. I’m about six months away from it.”
His eyebrows rose. “And how do you feel coming up to the date?”
“To be honest, not good. Do I love the work? Absolutely. Do I see myself doing this forever? Yes. But our books tell me the opposite. And deep inside, I think the business is not a perfect fit for the location.”
“It sounds like you know what to do.” His gaze dropped. “Though I get it’s not an easy decision.”
“No, it’s not. And not just for my employees. What scares me more, to be honest, is what comes next. Do I go back to a desk job? Do I try to start something new or revamp my current business somehow to fit what my community needs?”
“Or do you change your community?”
Her gaze snapped to his face. “Move? But my Mom lives in Columbus, and Logan’s stationed there, too.”
“But Logan isn’t always stationed at Fort Benning.”
“I mean…” She looked back at the last eight years, and true enough, Logan hadn’t lived in Georgia for half that time. “No, but still.”
“Consider this: You love The Perfect Day Catering. You’ve already taken a risk. Maybe explore other options on the table, even one that’s far-fetched and bonkers? Not that I have any say.”
“No, thank you.” She smiled, though her mind was in her commercial kitchen, with the entire family and employees milling about. “It feels good for me to talk this through. Sometimes I feel like I’m… alone in this.”
“You are most definitely not. You have your friends here. You have me.” He clapped down on the table gently. “But go ahead, taste the rest of the cakes.” He watched her as she took a bite of each sample. It took all of Regina’s effort not to let her eyes roll back in pleasure.
“Is that a moan I hear?” The right side of his mouth quirked up into a grin.
“Maybe?” She covered her mouth with a hand while her face burned up like a furnace.
“Well? What’s the verdict? Still chocolate?”
“As delicious as the carrot and the red velvet are—”
He peered at her playfully. “It was worth a try, though I thought I could tempt you.”
“Listen, if I could have a cake with a layer of each…”
“I seem to remember a certain Instagram story when you and your son flipped a coin over who would pick that evening’s pizza. And whoa.”
She laughed. “You didn’t like my anchovies and olives with pineapples?”
He splayed his hand against his chest and coughed. “The thought alone gives me heartburn.”
“What can I say? I have an advanced palate.” She beamed.
She stuck her fork in the cake and took another bite as she listened to him describe his adventure making sourdough pizza crust. His lovely voice filled her with earthy and sunny goodness. She had to shut her eyes to savor it, using all her senses, enjoying the hint of his cologne that wafted from across the table. She imagined what it would feel like to wake up next to him, under the crook of his arm, her nose nuzzled into him.
Her eyes flew open at how quickly her mind spiraled downward.
He grinned, leaning back, crossing his arms, appraising her.
She sipped the champagne to reset her palate and to get her mind straight. “So, yes. Chocolate.”
“All right.” He scribbled her order on his notes. “And design?”
“Simple, waved sides, ombré white to pink, a big number two, maybe some gold sprinkles. Enough for twenty servings? That should be safe. But really, I leave the design up to you. I trust you. But can we move my order to Friday? That’s the day Adelaide’s follow-up appointment will be.”
“Friday is definitely enough time.”
“Thank you for doing this.”
“Of course.” He stood, and he stuck a hand out to help her off the stool. “Are you doing anything right now?”
“This was my big plan for the evening.”
“Would you like to head down to La Cremerie? That’s the cheese shop I told you about.”
Regina looked at her watch. Surely they wouldn’t need her the rest of the night. Soon enough, she would be back to reality, not just at the town house, but in her home in Georgia, where her nights consisted of helping Miko with homework and sorting out bills, not twinkle lights and cake and nighttime strolls. “You know what? Yes.”
“Great. Just one minute.” He untied his apron and draped it over the countertop. He blew out all the candles and, leaving the lights on, led her out the door. After he locked up, he offered her his elbow.
This time, Regina didn’t feel the wind. Nor did she feel the time fly. Though, an hour later, under the dark, star-dotted sky, she absolutely felt his lips on hers for their first honest-to-goodness kiss.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Sophie
Present Day, Wednesday
The next morning, Sophie woke up in an empty bed. She sat up, bleary-eyed, and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. It was 8:00 a.m.
“Damn it.” Jumping off the bed, she threw on a robe over her pajamas. Exhaustion clung to her bones, but she ignored it, irritated that she hadn’t woken up to her alarm for Adelaide’s 6:00 a.m. temperature check. Both she and Regina had pulled long shifts the night before—Regina for Genevieve and Sophie for Adelaide—and Sophie must have crashed hard after Adelaide’s 3:00 a.m. medication.
Sophie padded to Adelaide’s room and peeked in. The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains. The outline of Adelaide’s body under the covers rose and fell in a calm pattern. Sophie pushed the door—it opened with a creak—and picked up the thermometer on the bedside table. With a gentle tap, she said, “Just taking your temp, Ad.”
Adelaide mumbled an okay, and Sophie stuck the thermometer in her ear. After a short wait, the device beeped a verdict, and Adelaide let out a breath. Her temperature was normal. Thank God
. After a brief glance at the medication record she drew up for Adelaide’s pain meds and antibiotics and noting her next dose, Sophie left the room, shutting the door.
Her phone buzzed with a notification: another text from Jasper. Since she changed her flight, he had been nonstop with questions. Despite her attempts to calm him with logical reasoning, he was unsatisfied with any of her answers.
Sophie stuffed the phone back in her robe pocket and squashed the ire rising in her chest. She wasn’t going to get into it with him first thing in the morning, without a cup of coffee in her system. He would have to wait.
Sophie smelled the food as she descended to the first floor. Bacon. And as she neared the kitchen door, she heard music.
She peeked in into the kitchen. Regina was belting out a song by Taylor Swift while she stirred a pot before moving on to chop something into smithereens. Then she halted to send a text. Genevieve was on the floor surrounded by Tupperware and its covers emptied from one of the bottom cupboards. She lifted a blue cover in a wave.
Sophie put a finger up to her lips in a sign of shh, and Genevieve imitated her, lips pursed.
Regina broke out into a small dance.
This was so… cute. Sophie tried to contain her smile and instead crossed her arms and waited patiently for Regina to turn, which she did after a strike-a-pose move with a hair flip.
Regina started, and brought her hand to her chest. “Good God. How long have you been standing there?”
“Enough to see that someone’s happy.” Sophie approached the kitchen counter, lifted Genevieve into her arms, and kissed her cheeks until she giggled before setting her down. Then she poured herself some coffee and sat at the wooden table. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it, focused on this singular conversation with Regina.
Up to that point, their interactions had been transactions, save for a couple of friendly comments. Mostly, their communication revolved around the Genevieve pass-off, the Adelaide care plan. The chores they’d split up, and yes, the party on Friday. They’d even shared a bed, but they hadn’t spoken despite the close quarters. As soon as their heads had hit their pillows, slumber overcame them. But the past hung over them like a chandelier too big for a room, and Sophie craved a simple conversation.
In Sophie’s opinion, the loss of a friend was just as devastating as a romantic breakup. In the decade Sophie had missed, she never got to support Regina through her divorce. She had never sent Regina’s son those noisy presents she’d promised in her minivan on that ice cream trip, though not for lack of trying.
“It was just a song,” Regina declared.
“Mm-hmm. Right, as if I don’t know you. You have that look.”
She stopped stirring. “What look?”
“Giddiness.”
“I mean, maybe I am a little giddy.…” She stirred again.
Giddiness usually meant romance, but maybe Sophie was wrong. “You’re going to leave me hanging? Is this about last night, with your date?”
“It wasn’t a date. It was about the cake. Which reminds me. This evening, I’m going to have to sneak out again. I need to buy decor.”
“With?” Sophie waited a beat for answer, then added, “Adelaide told me that this was an internet friend.”
“Maybe you and Adelaide shouldn’t be talking about me.” She gave Sophie the side-eye.
Ouch.
Genevieve threw one of the plastic containers into the pile, as if in anger.
“Oh, Genevieve, no throwing,” Regina said.
“Yes!” Genevieve said.
Sophie’s phone buzzed again. She took it out of her pocket.
Carmela
Mama, why aren’t you home yet?
Why are you being such a cactus to daddy?
All prickly.
I love you.
I’ll be home soon.
I need to stay for Adelaide.
You’re using her as an excuse to stay away.
The phone rang in her hand. She clicked the red button to send it straight to voice mail.
“Mine! Mine!”
When Sophie looked up, Regina was kneeling next to Genevieve. “Be nice to the bowls, okay? Or else I’m going to put them away.”
“It’s like we need to take our own advice,” Sophie said.
“Uh-huh,” Regina said. “Some of us more than others.”
Sophie put the phone screen side down and frowned.
“Look, you’re hiding something, too.” Regina stood and shut off the stove and leaned back against the countertop. “Maybe you should share first. What’s the deal with ignoring Jasper’s texts the other day, and then now, sending Carmela to voice mail?” At her silence, Regina added, “C’mon! I saw that contact photo—it was her.” She crossed her arms. “That sixth sense you always talked about? I have it now, too.”
“How funny that you remembered me using that phrase.”
“I was twenty-five and pregnant, and you were the best mom I knew. I watched you so closely I was practically taking dictation. It’s why it just pissed me off so much when… when…” She pressed her lips together.
When everything happened.
“You thought I was the best mom?” Sophie asked instead, stunned.
“Yes. But you’re changing the subject.” Regina’s tone changed. It hardened into bricks. “It’s not just you. Adelaide was ignoring Matt, too, at the hospital. The bottom line is that there can be reasons why we keep things to ourselves.”
Sophie snorted. Speaking to this woman was like picking up a needle with points on both ends. There was no way she was going to come out of it unscathed. “Damn. I was just curious why you were acting so weird.”
“There you go, judging.”
“I don’t judge!” Sophie huffed. And now, she had no idea where the conversation had meandered to. “I swear, talking to you is like talking to one of my children.”
Regina laughed. “There you go again. You’re such a good mama and nurse, but sometimes you’re such a”—she opened her mouth, then, as if thinking twice, eyes darting quickly to Genevieve, who was slack-jawed and watching them, reconsidered—“pill.”
Sophie didn’t know whether she should clutch her pearls or kick this woman’s butt. “That’s rude.”
Regina lifted her hands up, as if in surrender. “It wouldn’t hurt you to lower your standards for normal people like me. We can’t possibly accomplish everything you have and still be gorgeous and have a social life. The perfect Army wife. Oh wait!” She laughed. “Except, you aren’t.”
It was a low blow, even if Sophie knew that it was true. No, she wasn’t technically an Army wife, but she had lived long enough as one to count.
Sophie stood, giving up. “It’s obvious we’re having two different conversations—I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. I won’t stand for this kind of tone from anyone, not from my children, not from strangers, and certainly not from you.”
“And I’m surely not going to sit here and share and pretend that what happened so long ago is water under the bridge. Because it isn’t. Sure, ten years have gone by, but I have neither forgiven nor forgotten.”
“None of what happened back then was my fault.”
“Are you serious right now? Yes, it was.”
Sophie hung her head, though inside she was shaking. “You need to direct your anger to the right person. Besides, how many times do I have to apologize for any of my and Jasper’s involvement? I tried over the years, Regina. I’ve sent emails, presents to Miko. What more can I do?”
“Keep Miko out of this.”
“How can I? It wasn’t just us who split up, it was our families, too.” Saying this all aloud brought back the chaos of their last days together in Millersville, and the hurt that ensued.
“There are such things as consequences,” Regina said, bending down to pick up the scattered plastic bowls, a dismissal. “We’ve got to live with them.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Adelaide
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nbsp; Adelaide couldn’t go back to sleep after Sophie took her temperature, and after looking up at the ceiling for minutes on end and hearing the muffled noises of the world moving on below her, she decided it was time to get up.
Slowly, gingerly, she sat up in bed. Determining that her medication hadn’t rendered her dizzy, she stood, then made her way to her dresser and pulled out a nightgown, a comfortable, soft flannel number that she’d used postpartum. Then, she went to the bathroom, where she confronted herself in the mirror.
Heavens, she looked rough. Her skin was dull; her hair was matted and stood up in places. Forget bags, she had steamer trunks under her eyelids, and her lips were not their usual shade of pink. “But at least you’re standing,” she said aloud.
Adelaide lifted her nightgown over her head inches at a time; she spied the dressings over her sutures and peeled the tape from her skin. To her relief, the incision sites were dry and clean, and the skin around them wasn’t red or swollen.
On the struggle bus, she continued attempting, and failing, to fully raise her arms over her head. She sweated bullets as she tugged the clean nightgown over her body. Every muscle, some seemingly new ones, protested all the movement. But this was no time to give up. She’d awakened with two goals in mind.
To be with her daughter, and to get her friends to bond over Waiting to Exhale, if they hadn’t done so yet. So far, much of her comfort came from knowing her friends had found a way to work together, but she’d hoped the book would bridge the remainder of the gap between them.
Adelaide shuffled to the top of the stairs, holding on to the banister with a vise grip. Older homes like hers had tall, narrow stairways, and with every creaky step downward she felt her soul lighten. It was a one-foot-at-a-time operation, and she grunted with effort. When she reached the bottom step, both Regina and Sophie were looking up at her. Regina was giving Genevieve a piggyback ride.
She’d heard Genevieve in the middle of the night, crying for a bottle and a snuggle. It hadn’t been but a few minutes before the hallway light turned on, a sliver spilling under her doorway. Next came the sounds of footsteps going to her daughter’s room. Adelaide couldn’t tell which godmother was dealing with the baby, but it didn’t matter. Genevieve would always be able to look to either of them for help, at any time in her life.
