by Matayo, Amy
But then I get an idea.
A pretty brilliant idea, if you ask me.
I reach for my phone and make one more call.
Chapter Two
(Springfield)
Riley Mae
“What? I can’t hear you.” The caller is saying something, but it’s lost in the commotion of the bakery. Asking him to repeat himself isn’t doing any good.
This place is packed with noisy customers needing warm coffee and a safe place to escape the cold. It’s currently twenty-seven degrees outside, and flurries are descending over our little patch of downtown in powder-thin flakes, with a mere half-inch expected by tonight. It’s the same every year. All winter long we wait and wait for snow, offering sacrifices to the snow gods if they would just give us a white Christmas. When that doesn’t work, we try again for New Year’s Eve. Maybe? No? A white January fifth then? Almost always, our begging and pleading and snow dances result in nothing but wounded pride and sore legs. Whatever. I don’t believe in snow gods anyway. But then just as our collective mindsets shift into resignation of yet another brown and lifeless winter, those darn imaginary gods spit a token of leftover snow on us, leaving grumbling customers demanding more hot liquids and even more food to fill their bitter, now sun-seeking stomachs. This year is no exception.
The caller is still yelling in my ear, but I can’t hear a thing over the noise in this store. I settle the phone against my shoulder and ask him to speak louder, immediately wishing I hadn’t. It’s Liam, my boyfriend Chad’s brother, and his question just came through loud and clear.
“You want me to what now?” I quickly return the coffee carafe to its spot and walk into the kitchen, certain the lack of noise will clarify that he did not just ask me what I think he asked.
“Please, Riley. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”
“How would I get it there?” I ask, already running scenarios through my mind. In separate boxes? Decorated? Undecorated and decorate the layers when I arrive in Nashville? Frozen? Fresh? I could keep going with questions, but they would all go unanswered because there’s no logical answer. The wedding is in five days.
There’s also the matter that I make cupcakes for a living, not wedding cakes. Sure, I’ve done a couple in my line of work—every baker has—but it’s been a while, and I’ve never made a four-tiered cake. Decorating a wedding cake is delicate and time-consuming work, not to mention transporting one. Driving across town with boxes of finished cupcakes takes twice as long as a normal drive because of time spent dodging potholes and minimizing the risk of slamming on the brakes. Transporting a four-layer cake from Springfield to Nashville is another story entirely. I wouldn’t be able to breathe the whole drive. There’s no way I can do it.
Did I mention the wedding is in five days?
“You could drive it here?” Liam offers. “Please, Riley. Dillon is a wreck.”
I sigh, feeling my argument weaken in the face of a sad bride. “It’s just that—”
I pause, knowing my words are futile. Teddy Hayes singlehandedly saved this bakery a few months ago after it was nearly destroyed in a tornado, and Dillon is his cousin. No matter how many reservations I have, this is my opportunity to return the favor.
I can’t possibly say no. Even if I might show up with the ugliest cake ever made.
“Okay, I’ll do it.” I force the words out before I change my mind, then pinch the space between my eyes, feeling a sudden headache coming on.
“You will?” Liam sounds so relieved that I almost feel bad I considered turning him down.
“Yes.” I pick up a dirty bowl with caked-on, dried icing and set it in the sink, watching it fill with water. “Just don’t expect much.”
“It will look great, no matter what you do.”
“Don’t be so sure. And…don’t get Dillon’s hopes up too high. A wedding cake normally takes three days to make and decorate, and we’re leaving tomorrow.” I turn off the water and reach for a towel.
“You won’t get any complaints from me. Just…?”
“Just what?”
“Don’t let Chad help. He’ll try, but he’s a terrible cook. I wouldn’t put it past him to drop an eggshell in the batter or mix up the sugar with the salt.”
I laugh, because even though I’ve only met Liam twice, I like the guy a lot. And he has a point.
“You are not wrong,” I say with a smile. “He’s not the best at it.”
“Who’s not the best at what?” Chad says, walking into the kitchen. He casually kisses me and then reaches for a sponge, completely oblivious to the way all my female parts just exploded at the sight of him cleaning that bowl. Is there anything hotter than a man who isn’t afraid of cleaning yesterday’s icing? Cleaning dried sugar is my least favorite chore.
“I’m talking to your brother.”
He does a double-take over his shoulder. “What does he want? What do you want, Liam?” He shouts at the phone.
“I asked Riley for a favor. And I asked her not to let you help,” Liam shouts in my ear. Good Lord, between the customers and these two, there’s never a moment’s peace in my life. Especially when—after I leave here—I have my grandmother to deal with. She was stabbed in the kidney with a large piece of picture-window glass during a tornado a few months back, and she broke a few bones. It’s been a long and winding road, and she still walks with a limp, but I’m forever grateful that she made it out alive. Not everyone was so lucky.
At least her attitude wasn’t hurt in the destruction. She’s as opinionated and feisty as ever.
Like me.
“Yell in my ear again, and I might change my mind,” I lie. Then to Chad I say, “He asked me to bake a wedding cake.”
“Like, for his wedding? Shouldn’t he already have one by now?”
“I don’t need a lecture,” Liam half-shouts in my ear.
“He says ‘he doesn’t need a lecture,’” I quip sweetly, stirring up dissension even though the Bible says not to. I seriously don’t think God meant that verse to apply to the fun I’m having right now. Baking a four-layer wedding cake is an enormous task; I think I have the right to have a little fun before I start.
Chad dries off his hands and makes a come here motion with his hand. “Give me the phone.” I hand it over and mouth a silent “be nice” before relinquishing it. “A wedding cake, really?” he says into the phone, pacing the kitchen. “We’re leaving tomorrow. What on earth happened?”
I barely listen and get to work searching for cake pans.
* * *
Chad
I can’t remember the last time I gave my brother a lecture. Even though I’m older, most of my life it’s been the other way around—Liam in charge, Liam the star, Liam being better than me in nearly every way that mattered. Taller, more popular, more athletic, favorite son. It almost tore us apart, and probably would have if the cruise, the tornado, and even the concert hadn’t happened. To look at my family, the last year has put us through the wringer, but we’ve come away better for it. Liam and I are closer than ever, and Teddy’s been the best friend most people only hope for.
Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy giving them a bad time every so often.
“Tell Dillon not to worry, we’ll have a cake ready.”
“Wait—you’re not going to help, are you?” Liam asks with more than a little caution in his tone.
“Of course I’m going to help. I do know how to bake. How hard can a wedding cake be?” I feel fairly confident about this until Riley snickers. Am I wrong? Did I just sign up for something I’m going to regret? I shoot her a look, which only makes her laugh.
“I can hear Riley laughing,” Liam says. “How worried should I be?”
“Let us worry about the cake. You can worry about whatever else might go wrong in the next few days.”
Liam drops his voice. “Dude, if one more thing happens, I’m not sure Dillon will handle it well. Her mom and grandmother have already given her a hard-enough time over this.”
“So…do you really think you can do this?”
She looks at me and sighs. “Not well, but I’ll do something. I can promise the finished product won’t get me any new customers in need of a wedding cake.” There she is, the semi-pessimistic girl I fell for. The girl everyone in this town knows and loves, who has a heart bigger than the four-state area. The girl who rescues everyone first and saves herself for last.
She’ll bake this cake, even if she fails.
All to make my brother happy.
My insides flip around just looking at her.
Chapter Three
(Seattle)
Jane
“Is that the last of it?” I ask Teddy, looking around the apartment one more time as nostalgia settles around me. I feel an unexpected tug in my gut at the memories staring back at me from the empty rooms, but it’s the threat of tears that surprises me. I spent four years here, the first place I ever lived entirely alone. My last apartment was shared with two roommates straight out of college; it was fun while it lasted, but this apartment is where I fully grew up. It’s where I made the decision to work security, to apply for higher-level positions, to take on a job that ultimately led me to Teddy. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.
Except, now I’m trading it for Nashville.
Technically, I moved a couple months ago, but kept this place until my lease expired. Today it’s official: I’m no longer a resident of Washington State and now live in Tennessee. I’ve traded “you guys” for “y’all,” wine for beer, leather pants for blue jeans and boots, alternative rock for country.
Okay, that last one went a bit too far. I’m only just now beginning to appreciate the music that made Teddy famous, even if I’m the last person in the fifty states to do so. But I appreciate the heck out of Teddy himself, so I deserve bonus points for that. I blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
“That’s it,” he says, coming up behind me to wrap his arms around my waist. He pulls me to his chest and presses his lips to my neck, then wraps a strong hand around mine. Teddy is always reaching for my hand.
“Having second thoughts?” The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down my spine. His touch never fails to affect me. I lean into him and shake my head.
“No second thoughts. Just remembering…”
“I know.” He inhales the scent of my hair. To hear him tell it, my hair is his favorite thing about me, because it surprised him the most. When you spend the first few hours getting to know someone while engulfed in total darkness, your imagination fills in the gaps for you. He knew my touch, my scent, the sound of my laugh, even the way I breathed before he ever saw my face. Teddy’s imagination is vivid, but it failed to conjure up my image, shocking the heck out of him when the lights finally came on in the arena. He says he loved me before he saw me; that seeing me made him fall even harder. It might sound shallow, but it isn’t. When a relationship starts out the way it did for us, you learn to appreciate what you have. Now he has me. He also has my hair, and appreciate it he does.
I smile through the threat of tears and feel myself grow calm.
“I’ll miss Seattle, but not enough to stay.”
“You sure? I can pay out the lease at your new apartment. Or move into it myself…”
I turn and link my fingers behind his neck. “Move into it yourself, huh? What an interesting idea I’ve never heard of before.” My words are laced with sarcasm because he’s mentioned this only a dozen times today, not to mention the few hundred variations in the last month alone. But I’m not a groupie, and I don’t do living together, no matter how many times he brings it up.
“I keep thinking I’ll talk you into it eventually,” he says.
I shake my head. “You won’t. Not without rings and a paper, dude.” I pull him in for a kiss. This isn’t a demand for marriage, and he knows it. I would marry Teddy tomorrow if he asked, but he hasn’t, and I won’t pressure him. I love him no matter what. But I’m old-fashioned and have strong beliefs. Shacking up before marriage isn’t one of them. He wouldn’t tell too many people this, but I think my beliefs are one of his favorite things about me. Aside from the hair, of course. I pull away and smile up at him.
“Well now that you mention it…”
My smile falls, my heart stops cold, and my eyes go wide. I feel my lips fall open, but I can’t seem to close them. I must look amusing because Teddy laughs. The subject of marriage is not one he’s ever voluntarily mentioned, not even casually. Living together, yes. Marriage, not once.
“Don’t joke about that.”
He shrugs. “Who says I’m joking?”
I frown and pull back a little. “I say you’re joking. You’re not ready for marriage, you said so just yesterday.”
“Yesterday isn’t today. I’m not saying I’m ready yet, but I’m not saying I’m not.”
“There are a lot of negatives in that sentence,” I say, picking up the last box from the floor.
“Only if you focus on them. I choose to look at the positive.”
At this, I scoff and place the box off into Teddy’s outstretched hands. “Since when?”
“Since I realized you’re actually moving to Nashville. I kept expecting you to change your mind about it and me, but you haven’t. You’re actually going to do it.”
“I did it two months ago, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget. I’ve thought about it every day since, and I’m glad you’re making it permanent. I’m wondering if I should too.”
My heart gives three hard thuds, and my pulse trips down my throat. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
“And what have you decided?” I ask, cursing the hope we can both hear in my voice. For a bodyguard who’s supposed to be tough, I sure have a way of going soft at the worst possible times. He leans over the box to kiss me again.
“I never give away my secrets,” he says, winking when I raise an eyebrow. “Not this one, anyway.”
He kisses me before heading for the elevator. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”
“Okay,” I say, then turn back to look over the apartment one last time. They say when one door closes, another door opens, and this one is closing forever. I’ll miss this apartment. I’ll miss Seattle even more. But I have a new home now, in Nashville. More importantly, I have a person waiting for me there.
What’s in front of me looks better than anything I’m leaving behind.
* * *
Teddy
“She what?” I laugh into the phone just as Jane climbs inside the truck and closes the door. I put the phone on speaker so she can hear, and reach for her hand as Chad repeats the story.
“You’re kidding,” Jane says. “How do you forget to order a cake?”
“Dillon’s usually a lot more detailed than that,” I say, shaking my head. “I think this wedding is stressing her the hell out, made her a bit of a head case. Don’t repeat that. She’s smaller than me, but she knows how to beat me up. Used to do it all the time when we were kids.”
“Really?” Jane says, clearly intrigued. “I’ll have to ask her about this when we get there.”
I point to her. “You be nice. The last thing I need is two girls ganging up on me.”
Chad laughs. “I won’t say anything to her. I’m a little scared of Dillon right now myself.”
I laugh. Bridezilla isn’t the way I would describe Dillon…entirely. Just stressed out, mostly from having to deal with her mother. I love my aunt, but wedding planning is to her what Hollywood parties are to a professional socialite, all-consuming and entirely over the top. No matter, it’s almost over. Once the cake fiasco is behind us, it should be smooth sailing from here on out. Not the greatest metaphor in the dead of winter, but it’s the best I’ve got.
&n
bsp; “I’ll call her to check-in. Tell Riley I said thank you. I’d take care of the cake myself, but we’re up to our necks in moving boxes. We’re leaving Seattle now, by the way. Should be in Nashville by Thursday morning.”
“Alright, drive safe.”
“We will,” Jane says.
We say goodbye and hang up the phone, and I glance at Jane, who’s gone uncharacteristically quiet in the last couple of minutes. She stares out the window at the passing scenery—apartment buildings, storefronts, trees, the Space Needle in the distance. Mournful is the only appropriate word to describe her. Holding firmly to her hand is the only way I can think to offer any sort of comfort. Saying goodbye to a place is tough, made even more difficult when it’s the place you’ve spent most of your life. I’ve traveled all over the world, sure, but my roots have long been in Tennessee. I’m unsure how I might feel if I had to transplant myself to another part of the country, even if what awaited me held promise.
I keep my hand locked around hers for a few more silent minutes, giving her time. Sometimes time is the best gift, even if the giver wants nothing more than to fill the space with platitudes and reassurances…usually for themselves. I want to ask her if she’s sure, if she’s changed her mind, if she wants me to turn around and take her back to her old apartment. I want to ask so many things, but instead, I settle for “Are you doing okay? It’s tough to leave, isn’t it?”
I brace myself for her answer and wait. When she says nothing, I risk a glance at her, but she’s giving me only a blank stare.
She shakes her head. “It’s a little tough, but I was actually wondering what to wear to the wedding. Since you’re a bridesmaid, should I wear a dress or a suit? For sure, a suit. One of us should probably look like the man in this relationship.”
