Sweet on You

by Carla de Guzman

  Gabriel, who was currently bent over his fridge (providing her with an excellent view of his bubble butt in his boxers), stiffened suddenly and slowly looked over his shoulder at her.

  “I...don’t have any?”

  Sari gasped, like really gasped, like she was in a bad B-grade horror movie.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes?” he asked, retrieving food from cabinets with an ease and casualness that only came with experience. Without batting an eyelash and with the flick of a knife, he started chopping things like he was Cooking Master Boy himself. “I have coffee when I get to the bakery.”

  “Oh my God.” Sari actually grabbed the countertop for support. “You cannot tell me that 3-in-1 is your favorite coffee.”

  “It’s not!” he said right away, keeping his eyes on his chopping. “I just...haven’t found anyone who makes my favorite coffee yet.”

  “Okay, fine.” Sari shook her head. “I might as well tell you. In the interest of full disclosure, and so we can get this out of the way. I ate a bit of your cupcakes yesterday. Which may have prompted...all of this.”

  “Which one?” Now it was Gabriel’s turn to gasp, like it was the most important question in the world.

  “The birthday cake one.”

  “Rose, of course,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he resumed cooking. “She is going to love that.”

  There was almost a snort of derision that followed that, but Sari pretended not to notice.

  “Your sister is going to love that I was seduced by her cupcake flavor?”

  “What? No, I...never mind.”

  “You’re the one who brought this up.” She grinned, but dropped the subject anyway. “So, since I’ve had your cupcake, you have to have my coffee. I have a knack for knowing what people want.”

  “Hmm, a challenge, I like it.” Gab nodded, tossing things into a frying pan. “Okay. We’ll go after breakfast, which will be ready in...five minutes. I hope you like tuyo.”

  “As long as you serve it properly. Rice, tomatoes and patis with calamansi.”

  “I’ll make you a thing that will blow your mind. Hang on.”

  “For dear life,” Sari joked before she left the kitchen to look around the house. Gab had said something about having too much space, and it showed. Aside from the couch with its plastic still on, the two-person dining table with two chairs and his shoes by the door, there wasn’t much else to see. Sari wondered how long he’d been living here, if he had any plans to spruce the place up. A framed photo here, a potted plant there. Sunday Bakery was practically plucked out of a carefully curated interior decor Pinterest feed, with neon lights, subway tile walls and mosaic floors. This house seemed extra drab in comparison.

  Sari was struck with the realization that her house would look much the same when Sam moved into their grandmother’s place at the farm. Sari pulled the bedsheets closer to herself, refusing to entertain the thought even further.

  Lipa was a place where you settled down roots, made a living and stayed. Sari had tried Manila, but she couldn’t resist this place’s siren call. She had come here knowing she would stay. She hadn’t been able to imagine leaving.

  Seeing how Gabriel set everything up here made her wonder if he felt the same way. Was he planning on staying? Or was he, like most things, temporary?

  “Tuyo, sinangag rice with my mom’s special tomato mash,” Gabriel exclaimed with a flourish, bursting out of his kitchen in just his apron and boxers, holding up the plate of dried and fried herring and a plate of mashed tomatoes drizzled in a little of the pan oil and patis. Then he came back out with rice, both plain and fried with garlic. It was a feast. Sari’s stomach immediately grumbled.

  “Wow, you certainly know how to make a girl feel special.”

  “If I knew the way to your heart was through your stomach, I would have pushed you on those sinturis muffins the day we met.” Most of Gabriel’s plate was already carrying mountains of rice and fish, and he dove right in with his freshly cleaned hands.

  “Oh, but wasn’t it all so much better this way?” Sari teased, scooping the garlicky rice onto her plate, taking a taste of the tomato. It was perfectly seasoned, and the patis made it salty enough to go well with the fish. “This tomato thing is amazing by the way. I’m stealing it.”

  “My mom was all about finding ways to get us to eat vegetables,” Gab spoke in between bites, and Sari had never seen anyone eat like that. “This is my favorite breakfast. I would have it every day if I wasn’t so lazy. My sister Mindy and my mom visited me in Singapore once and the only thing I asked for was tuyo. And tocino. And Vienna sausage. And pancit canton.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Mindy complained that her luggage smelled like fish, but it was so worth it.”

  “Do you miss them?” Sari asked, but immediately regretted it when she saw Gabriel completely stop at the question, like he hadn’t expected it at all. He kept his eyes on his food, but was now attacking it with a lot less gusto.

  “Yeah,” he said, not looking at her as he continued to eat. “I miss them every day, actually.”

  “So why don’t you tell them you’re here?” Normally Sari would have a much bigger reaction than this, but she didn’t think she had a right to that, especially since this was Gabriel’s story to tell, if he wanted to.

  “My dad and I are currently having a...disagreement. He thinks baking isn’t a lucrative enough career for a man, and until I prove him wrong, I can’t talk to him.” Gabriel looked ten years younger as he squirmed where he sat, and it broke her heart. Sari, who had never really experienced having parents who cared about you so much that you hated them for it, wasn’t quite sure what to say.

  “Why doesn’t he—”

  “He thinks baking is for girls.”

  She took in a sharp breath with her teeth, because damn. That was messed up. And really, as the expert in Shitty Things Parents Say, she knew there wasn’t much she could say to rectify the situation. It was always a hard thing for kids, to find out that their parents—the ones who taught them the difference between right and wrong—could be very wrong, indeed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Let’s not talk about it, okay? I don’t want to ruin the morning.” He shrugged, and if she had actually used utensils this morning she would have wanted to squeeze his arm. Purely to reassure him, of course. “Eat your rice. We’re going to Café Cecilia for coffee.”

  “I do like a man who knows what he wants.” Sari smiled, and the look Gabriel gave her back was so warm and sweet that she felt the need to return it. How unexpected that the boy next door would be the boy that would make her feel this way.

  It was wonderful. Honestly Sari never figured she would feel this way about anyone. She was twenty-nine and had been fully with Team No Boyfriend Since Birth. But Gabriel was just so...himself. And he looked at her like he liked her exactly the way she was.

  “You’re picturing me naked again, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Chapter Twenty

  For reasons that should be obvious, Gabriel was in a fantastic mood. It was always fun, starting something with someone. And it was extra fun because he really liked Sari. She was brilliant and whip smart, cutting when she was in a good mood, quiet when she wasn’t. Honestly she could take over the entire world if she wanted to.

  For today, she was trying to figure out his coffee order.

  “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

  “Ssssh, sit down and shut up.” Sari didn’t even look up at him as she busied herself around her lair. Gab rested his elbow on the counter and cupped his chin with his hand to watch her.

  He loved watching her behind her coffee machine, moving through the steps like nothing about the process could rattle her. She smiled when she made espresso, hummed when she added milk or water, focused w
hen she dunked the cup into the steam spout thing. He liked watching her in her element, it was incredibly sexy.

  She slid a little espresso cup across the countertop toward him.

  “Café Cubano for Dimples?” she asked. Gabriel’s immediate reaction was to take a picture. Sure, he didn’t use social media anymore (it was too much of a hassle, especially with the huge-ass lie he was telling), but the instinct to take pictures was still ingrained in his millennial brain.

  “This looks good,” he commented, looking at the light amber froth on top, hiding the dark brew below. He’d seen Sari stir brown sugar into this, too. He raised his cup to her and toasted.

  “To our next Simbang Gabi adventure,” he said. “I already have a plan.”

  “Oh, really?” Sari asked wryly, taking a sip of her coffee. “Do tell.”

  “It’s a surprise. I don’t want to—oh shit,” he said, lowering his cup because he’d tried to be cool and sip and talk at the same time. “WOAH. What is this?”

  “Cuban coffee? It’s interesting, isn’t it? You flavor the espresso shot with this frothy, whipped demerara sugar that you make with the first drops of espresso. So it’s not just dark, it’s really sweet too, like molasses. I figured it was your favorite. And considering we didn’t sleep all that much last night...”

  “Naughty. And this is amazing. I’ll never sleep again.” Gab nodded, taking another sip. “But it’s not my favorite.”

  He finished his demitasse serving and felt the zing of caffeine and sugar course through his body, making him stand up and cross the counter, just so he could kiss Sari. He cradled her face in his hands and he loved the way she just melted into him, like demerara sugar in hot espresso.

  She sucked on his bottom lip, and nibbled lightly before she pulled away.

  “Sorry. You had sugar on your lip,” she said, licking the corner of her own lips like she knew it was his favorite part of her.

  “Wow, who’s bastos now?” he asked, and her face split with laughter. She pressed her forehead against his chest, and Gabriel had never realized how nice it felt to have someone in his arms like this.

  “I’m determined to find your favorite,” she told him. “Now go. Make people happy with sugar. I like nuts in my cookies, just saying.”

  “Oh, I had a feeling,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face, even if it wasn’t really there, just because he had the privilege. “I have an idea that I’m trying out today.”

  “Will I get to taste it?”

  “Only if you’re really, really good.” He tapped the tip of her nose and pulled away.

  “Ugh, you guys are disgustingly adorable, and I can’t even hate you for it because I’m so happy for you,” Sam interrupted as she walked into the coffee lab with her black mini-horse following dutifully next to her. “Ate, your barista was asking about the Cecilia blend you wanted to use?”

  “Right!” Sari jolted up from where she and Gabriel were huddled together, and she knew exactly where she was going to get whatever Sam needed. “Work. Coffee. Things.”

  “Mm, I like all those things,” Gab agreed.

  “Sweet baby Jesus,” Sam said out loud while looking at the ceiling. “Lola, look at your apo, so malandi.”

  “I thought you were the one who wanted her to walk naked around the house? You didn’t say which house,” Gab felt the need to add, which only made Sari gasp and blush furiously while Sam gaped at him like she couldn’t decide if she liked him or hated his guts. Gabriel laughed. He had the strongest feeling that Sam would get along well with his siblings, but cut the thought off almost immediately. There would be no siblings meeting, no teasing, no Dabarkads gathering where they would be asked when they were getting married. No.

  “What have I done?” Sam shook her head, pretending to collapse on the daybed. Gab found himself watching Sari work for a while, and had the sublime pleasure of seeing her in her element. She talked to her sister without missing a beat in the barista’s usual dance with the espresso machine. Her hands knew exactly where to go, and she was smiling, and exactly where she was meant to be. And for someone who so rarely shared herself with other people, seeing her in her inner sanctum felt like the utmost privilege.

  The lab was neat as a pin, which was very much like her. But it was warm and homey still, especially with the daybed and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. This was a room that was definitely lived in, and the kind of room one settled in.

  This was her place. She didn’t look like she wanted to leave it.

  A pang hit Gabriel’s chest as he imagined not being here anymore. Who would talk to her at the fire escape? Who would dance with her through their shared windows?

  Not yet, he reminded himself. The mall deal hasn’t happened yet.

  “You were the one who wanted me to have naked dance parties at home, Sam.” Sari sipped her coffee as if completely innocent in this scenario. Already Gabriel was looking forward to all the shenanigans that they were going to get themselves into—into, out of, through.

  “I’m going. Dog, Sam, Sari.” Gabriel nodded to Kylo, who blinked at him in response. “Merry Christmas.”

  “I can’t believe you greeted the dog first,” Sam protested.

  “I’m seeing your sister later, and the dog isn’t allowed in my bakery,” he said, giving Sari a little wave before he decided to take a new route and walk down the steps to go through the café to get outside. He could swear he heard the two sisters exclaiming over each other behind him as he descended the steps of the coffee lab and walked out the door.

  There were exactly ten steps between Sari’s doorstep and his. He counted them out today, his smile getting bigger and bigger with each step. Did he have his hands in his pockets while he was whistling? Why yes, he did.

  Hello, kilig, my name is Gabriel. So this is what you feel like.

  “Psst, hijo,” Ate Nessie greeted him after he went back downstairs and joined her at their usual bench. “Did I just see you coming out of Café Cecilia?”

  “I plead innocent until proven guilty.”

  “Oks, pretty boy.” She rolled her eyes. Such tenacity and judgement from such a wise woman, but Gabriel thought it best not to tell her that. “Are you still coming to help me set up aré?” She pulled a box out of her pocket, waving it at him. It took Gabriel a moment, but he realized it was a cell phone, still in its packaging. Ate Nessie had been one of the big winners of the night at the Christmas raffle, winning a high-end phone that one of Kira’s clients had generously gifted to be given away. Unfortunately, Ate Nessie didn’t know how to set it up, and was ignoring the bidding war currently ongoing for it.

  “Of course. I told you, it’s a date.” He crossed his legs as he sat next to her, pulling bonete out of the paper bag between them. Steam rose from the inside of the bag, and he took a deep sniff of the bread. It smelled like fat. Delicious, filling, fat. “Mmm.”

  “You have a visitor, by the way.” Ate Nessie pursed her lips and used them to point in the direction of the front of the bakery. Gabriel followed the path her mouth made and realized that a lone figure was peering into the bakery window. Gabriel paused and tilted his head to the side.

  “Santi?”

  “Gabriel.” Santi turned to Gabriel with a barely-there smile. Santi’s hands were still in his pockets, and Gab would have been convinced by the illusion of utmost propriety and too-stiff neatness if he didn’t have a bit of pizza flour on his neck. It seemed impolite to mention it, so he decided not to. “I need to discuss something with you.”

  “Is that a flower in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

  He looked confused. “Is that a dirty joke?”

  “Never mind. You wanted to talk?”

  Santi shifted uncomfortably where he stood, his gaze sweeping the Laneways like he was making sure nobody saw them together. Gabriel tried not to point out that his gaze lin
gered a hair too long on Kira’s shop. Santi coughed to clear his throat and glanced at Ate Nessie.

  “Maybe we can talk somewhere a little more private?”

  “Ala eh,” Ate Nessie rolled her eyes. “That’s my cue to leave, I guess. Gabriel, I will be back so you can set up my cell phone. Do not let Santi eat any of the bonete.”

  “Oks. I’ll guard them with my life.” Gab nodded, cradling the bag in his arms as Ate Nessie narrowed her eyes in Santi’s direction and left the bench.

  “You know she’s going to tell everyone we’re having secret discussions,” Gab whispered, opening the door to the bakery for him. Santi coughed again and entered the shop, which was empty for now. It usually was at eight in the morning, then nine a.m. hit and people would come streaming in. “You really need to see to that cough, Sants.”

  “I’m not sick, it just helps make a point sometimes.” Santi slid into one of the seats, and he looked hilariously out of place in Gabriel’s bakery, especially in his crisp pants and gingham shirt.

  “Coffee?” Gabriel asked. “I only have 3-in-1.”

  He winced. “That’s fine.”

  Readers, it was not fine. Santi got his coffee from Tomas Coffee Co., and it was very not fine. Gabriel’s eyebrow shot up. He was aware of very few things about Anton Santillan, one of which was that Santi was the most particular guy in the planet. He ordered his restaurant’s desserts from Gabriel because according to Santi, Gabriel’s tiramisu and cannoli were “adequate.” He was the only place in Lipa that had their own exclusive blend by the Tomas Coffee Co. because the ones they sold commercially were “passable.”

  He just didn’t seem like a 3-in-1 kind of guy, was what Gabriel was saying.

  “Is everything okay? I can’t tell if you’re spooked or excited.” Gabriel frowned as he settled back into his seat, Santi cradling his coffee and Gabriel with a bowl of shredded star apple with evaporated milk that Faye had given him when he came in, the bonete already safely set aside to be warmed up later.