Sweet on You

by Carla de Guzman

  There was a glow of pride that came to his face when he started talking about his family, and he tugged at Sari’s heart. It was easy to see that he really did love them, and she wondered how much he missed them, when he was much closer than they all thought.

  How bad did things have to be that Gabriel felt the need to lie to all of them about Sunday Bakery? Why did he seem almost ashamed of what he’d been able to achieve?

  “I just don’t understand why my parents raised me to think that I can be anything, I can do anything that I wanted, only to tell me later on that who I am isn’t enough for them,” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and kicking a bit of dirt from the metal flooring. “You know what I want?”

  “What you really, really want?” she asked, and score two points for Sari, because she’d made Gabriel laugh again.

  “I want to go to Paris,” he said with a little smile. “Just like Mindy did. I want to do that, but I want to spend an entire day sitting in a boulangerie eating all of the bread, with the fancy butter. Maybe even have a coffee or two, so I can think of you.”

  “Bold of you to assume that I don’t want to go with you.” Sari smiled. “I’ve never had to drink coffee from a bowl, and I want that experience. Everyone tells me the café culture in Paris is completely different from Seoul, or Japan.”

  “I hope so.” Gabriel was smiling a little now, looking at her. “I love Seoul, though. Every café has a different vibe, and for some reason all the coffee is excellent. Australia I feel like is all about the brunch experience—avo on toast, all the ways you can eat eggs in a croissant, things like that. Hong Kong and Japan are about the teeniest tiniest cafés, with the most minimalist aesthetic. Good luck finding a filling meal there. Seoul is a little more varied, I think. You’re literally spoiled for choice when it comes to the cafés there.”

  “Have you ever been to Café Revolver in Bali? Or Café Mexicola?”

  “Cool for the gram, but I didn’t stick around long enough to decide if I really liked their stuff.” Gabriel shrugged.

  “Whenever you have to eat someone else’s bread,” Sari said, because she might as well, if they were doing this. “Do you always feel like you’re trying to compare it against yours?”

  “All the time!” he exclaimed. “I’m the worst kind of customer. Especially if their bread is better than mine? It makes me feel so competitive.”

  “I want to change the entire coffee menu at Mary Grace,” she said in a soft voice, because speaking any louder than that would anger the aunties who loved that place.

  “Sari, that’s blasphemy!” Gabriel gasped, even if he was still smiling.

  “I love their food, I love their pasta and their desserts, but if I’m paying five hundred pesos for a meal and dessert, my coffee should at least taste better than what I would get at home!”

  It felt good to talk to him about these things. It felt good to talk about cafés in general, because Sari realized, she didn’t really have anyone in her life to talk to about these things. Sam had always preferred travelling locally, it was more exciting that way, she said. And Sari didn’t think Selene had traveled for leisure since they started the business. Kira liked cafés too, but tended to stick to the ones she knew.

  So this was nice.

  “I should let you go back inside,” Gabriel said. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

  “I am.” Sari nodded. “I hope you finally get your starter on.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” he said, picking up his jar. And the way he smiled at her, the way her heart was quickening its pace in her chest, Sari legitimately thought that he was going to kiss her. Maybe it was just the morning light, the way it hit his face, because he just looked so happy to be there with her, that she wanted to kiss him too.

  She placed a hand on his chest, possibly the most bold thing she’d ever done. His eyes widened for a second before they softened. And Sari knew she liked the right guy when he bent his head down a little, his nose already brushing against hers, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. She reached her other hand up to his cheek, just so she could brush her fingers against his dimples.

  “I feel like I’ve waited forever for this,” he said.

  “It’s been two weeks. More or less.”

  “I’ve always been impatient.”

  Then he pressed his lips against hers, and Sari’s heart completely opened up, in a way it never had before. She never realized how lonely she felt until Gabriel kissed her, like she was safe, like she was wanted, like he was thinking about her. She pulled him in closer, and he wrapped his free hand around her waist, the other still carrying the damn jar of starter.

  In the distance, she heard the sounds of familiar beeping, and she remembered. She was supposed to be roasting beans.

  “Was that my timer or yours?” Gabriel asked hazily as they separated. Sari turned her head to the direction of her coffee lab, and he stole a kiss on her collarbone, making her insides feel all warm and melty like hot caramel.

  “Mine, I think,” she said, and he sighed, like he knew she was about to leave. Sari squeezed his cheeks together and pulled his head up gently so he could look at her. His smooshed up face was hilarious, and she giggled.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” she told him, and it wasn’t a question, but a promise.

  “Hopefully I’m actually productive by then,” he sighed, and she smacked him on the forehead with a kiss before she left the fire escape. For some reason, she was very aware that he was watching her and looked over her shoulder.

  “I love it when you walk away,” he said dramatically, and she laughed and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  December 19

  He had kissed Sari Tomas.

  Gabriel had kissed Sari Tomas.

  Fuck, it was wonderful.

  Gabriel decided to celebrate the occasion with a mango-and-cream cake (because what was the point of being a baker if you couldn’t bake when you kissed a girl that you really liked). Mango and cream had been a combination on a famous cake from Red Ribbon Bakeshop when he was a kid. The current iteration of Red Ribbon still had it, but it wasn’t quite the same. The mango cake that Gab remembered was a delectable tower of chiffon with pieces of fresh mango in the Swiss buttercream. The cake was a study in pillowy lightness and sweet cream, all flavors just there to highlight the amazing mangoes from a legendary mango farm in San Antonio, which happened to have a few out-of-season mangoes.

  Would Sari be able to resist that?

  “Are the mangoes here already?” he asked Ransom, who was still blinking away post-lunch sleepiness with a cup of barako from next door. Gabriel had to stop for a second, because the strong, punch-you-in-the-face barako was starting to smell like home.

  “In the kitchen. Blossom Farms also sent over some of their Red Lady papayas. They thought you might want to experiment with them.”

  “Hmmm.” He ran his hand through his hair as he thought. In his experience, papaya was sliced up and served with generous heaps of condensed milk. What could he do with that? “What do you guys think, pa-pie-ya?”

  Both Ransom and Faye, who was sitting in the corner and reading one of Gab’s baking books, cringed.

  “Tough crowd,” he chuckled. “I’ll think of something. Faye, come up and help me with the mango cake in ten minutes?”

  “Fifteen?”

  “Sure.” Gabriel shrugged. His fragile ego could handle a bit of insubordination.

  With a little spring in his step, he headed upstairs to the bakery, pulling his hair back in a bandana so he could get to work on that cake. Perfection didn’t make itself, after all. He put on his Christmas playlist and started to sing along to “Kumukutikutitap” to get into the mood.

  He threw on his apron, thoroughly washed his hands and mentally ran through the list of ingredients he needed for the cake. He cou
ld make chiffon in his sleep, his training and culinary school had seen to that, but the perfect ratio of the mango to the Swiss meringue buttercream was all Gabriel. It had to be sweet, but more mango sweet than sugary sweet. There had to be little resistance when you cut into the cake, and it had to fill the tongue with cream, just enough to taste the freshness of the mango. And with mangoes like the ones he had, it had to be the star of the show.

  He was distracted by the basket of mangoes waiting for him, yellow jewels in a banana-leaf-lined kaing. He picked one up and took a sniff, loving the familiarity of the promising, slightly floral scent on the soft mango skin. Philippine mangoes didn’t have that syrupy quality he seemed to get in Taiwan or in Japan, and he much preferred it without. Mangoes here were a bit more subtle in their sweetness, and had a warmth to their flavor that he couldn’t find with any other fruit. With a practiced hand, he picked up a clean knife and cut the mango into three parts, expertly separating the cheek-sides from the seed that ran through the middle.

  When he was younger, his mother would cut the inside of the mango cheeks into diamond shapes, making them easy to pop up and eat without a spoon, handing them to Gabriel just before she reminded him to share. The concept of sharing had eluded him for a good long while—how could he share something that was already his to begin with? But slicing up mangoes always reminded him that the best things in life became even better when shared with someone else.

  Today, he didn’t have anyone to share with. It seemed silly to call one of his siblings to drive two hours to Lipa just for half a mango, not that he was about to do that anytime soon.

  He looked up at the window he shared with the coffee shop and saw that Miss Sari was in residence, wrestling with the most intimidating-looking coffee machine he had ever seen in his life. It had a computer and everything, and was it actually making a graph?

  He would never understand coffee-making. Gabriel knocked on the glass, loud enough for her to look up and turn to him, her momentary confusion quickly morphing into a brilliant smile.

  You kissed her, he thought, smiling back. And she liked it.

  He held up the mango, hoping she would get the message. He’d even cut it into diamond shapes, just like his mother showed him. Sari’s face immediately brightened at the sight of the mango, and Gab felt his heart stop in his chest. He’d been aware, the first time he saw her, that she was beautiful. She had delicate features, a heart shaped face, and dimples that came out every time she tried to hide a smile.

  He didn’t know why he liked provoking her so much, but he did, falling deeper and deeper into the pit of her light brown eyes until just the thought of him made her frown the way she did. But there were moments when her gaze softened, just like this, that made him feel like it was worth it.

  But with that soft gaze, she revealed a sadness behind her eyes, the pressing weight of the world that Gabriel wished he could carry for her.

  They met in the fire escape, quietly eating their mangoes like it wasn’t a rare treat to have them so sweet in December.

  “Something on your mind?” Gabriel asked gently.

  “Oh, lots of things,” she said quickly. “Lots and lots of things, constantly looping in my head. I have an intro to running a café class at the end of the week that I haven’t prepared for, inventory, purchase orders, Christmas gifts to think about. And then we kissed.”

  “Yes, we did.” He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, which only made her laugh and elbow him lightly in the ribs. But her smile faded as she seemed to remember something she would rather not think about.

  “My sister Sam is moving out in two days and she doesn’t have a rice cooker,” she said, using her thumb to clean up a bit of stray mango on her lip. “Not that the rice cooker is the most important thing, but she doesn’t have one.”

  “I’ve heard amazing things about the Xiaomi one,” he told her, because it was just one of those random things he’d picked up from his family chat group. “I can ask around...”

  “It’s not that,” Sari giggled, and she squeezed his arm as if to let him know that she was grateful for the gesture. But even then, that sadness was still on her face, and Gab didn’t know what he could do to take it away.

  “I feel like parts of my life are falling away,” she said, pressing the heels of her hands against her closed eyes. “I’ve lived with my sisters all my life. We were together when our parents were fighting, we were together when our parents split and we moved to Lipa. We were even together when we studied in Manila, one after the other.

  “When Lola died, the three of us rallied to go against our father when he suddenly showed up and lost the company their biggest client. But after that, we kind of...went our separate ways. Together in the business, but separate in everything else. And now Sam’s moving out, and I’ll be...” She paused, like she didn’t know the right word to use. And because Gabriel understood what she was feeling, he knew perfectly well that it wasn’t that she didn’t know the right word to use, it was that she didn’t want to say it out loud.

  “Alone,” he said, and the word hung heavy in the air, and he knew she could feel it too.

  “Yeah,” she said, the confession so soft that his heart wrenched. Then and there, he realized that he was the last person in the world to give her advice.

  He didn’t know anything about her family business, in fact she was the business veteran between the two of them. He understood sibling relationships, but what right did he have to comment on hers when he had put a deliberate wedge in his relationship with his family? But while he couldn’t advise her, he understood her. He could listen to her.

  He hoped that it was enough.

  “And now I’m supposed to think of Christmas gifts for my friends’ kids? I mean, are you still friends with people you only interact with through comments on social media?” She chuckled in that way people did when they were trying their hardest not to sound pathetic, fully knowing they did.

  “I didn’t know you were supposed to give gifts to your friends’ kids.”

  “Well, you are if they made you swear in front of God to be called ninang, and provide Christmas gifts,” Sari sighed. “And I don’t think four-year-olds want coffee beans.”

  “Yeah, a downpayment on a condo would be more appropriate,” Gabriel commented dryly, because he was good at that sort of comeback, too. It actually made Sari laugh. He felt a little sense of victory at the thought that he’d done that.

  “How unfair. I recall being extremely happy getting a crispy new twenty peso bill for Christmas at that age,” she said, inspecting her mango for any remaining bits of flesh that she hadn’t eaten yet. “God, this mango is amazing. Where did you get it?”

  “A magician never reveals his sources.” He waved his hand around like he could conjure a fresh mango in seconds. If only. “But it’s from a farm in Zambales. People say their mangoes are magical. There’s a whole legend behind it where the women who run the farm have to be married with kids for the mangoes to be good.”

  “They marry...kids?”

  “What? No, they get married and then have kids. Basta, it’s magical.”

  “Sure, magical.” Sari laughed, for the second time in one sitting, and honestly, it felt like progress to him. “I feel like people always underestimate just how amazing running a farm is. Not to mention how difficult it is to run a business with your family.”

  “Is that how you guys feel about your coffee?” Gabriel said, and ignored the little twinge of guilt that bit at his heels whenever someone mentioned the f-word. This was the Philippines, where families were ingrained in your blood and were as important as the place you lived. You were made up of the family you were born into and the last thing you ate. He’d chosen to put his family aside for now, trying not to need them, and he didn’t. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t miss them all.

  “It is.” He wondered what had happened in S
ari’s life that she sighed that deeply at the thought of her legacy. “It’s complicated. Someone works hard to build it up, someone wants to just sit around and benefit because they weren’t asked to do the work, and eventually things break down. Thank God my sister Selene was smart enough to take over when she did, give it to us the way she did, or else I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t have anything.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened exactly, but I sort of understand. That moment when you realize that they love you, but they don’t understand you,” he said, because he understood that too. How odd that he hadn’t known Sari for very long, but then found someone who understood him. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, but recognizing yourself in another person, that was special. That was important.

  “The glass shatters, and you realize that everything’s a lie.” Sari nodded, her gaze far away. “You’re holding on to what you have so tightly, and you don’t realize you’re choking them.”

  “What about you, Sari?”

  “What about me?”

  “Even if it was your sister who, I guess, organized things for you and Sam,” he said, because someone who remembered the names of his eight siblings remembered the names of other people’s. “You took on the challenge just as much as they did. And I see you in your coffee lab, you’re constantly working, and when you work, you have this little smile on your face when you know it’s going well. You love your work, and I don’t think you should discount that.”

  “I do.” She nodded. “I love it. But what else do I have beyond it?”

  Me, he wanted to say. You have me. Even if he was leaving the Laneways, was fully expecting to leave the Laneways really soon.