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Richie dropped his fork. His cheeks flushed. “Well, I hate it when you treat me like a child!”
The startled couple stared at each other, not sure what to make of each other’s revelations.
Josie grabbed a cupcake and watched like she lived for these moments.
With wide eyes, Eric looked between me, the couple, and the cake, all very suspiciously.
When it began to settle in that maybe all wasn’t as rosy as it seemed for the nauseatingly cute couple, the fireworks began.
“How can you hate my momma?” Richie seethed. “She’s been nothing but nice to you.”
“Nice?” Gabrielle mirthfully laughed. “She cuts me down behind your back all the time. And I wouldn’t have to treat you like a child if that woman had ever taught you how to fend for yourself. Dirty underwear goes in the freaking hamper, and for the love of God, would it be so hard to put the toilet seat down, or clean it for that matter?”
“Okay, okay.” I reached out and took a hand from each of them. “These are very good things to know about each other. The important thing now is that you remember why you fell in love and work through your issues together.” While they obviously had some problems, I didn’t think it warranted them breaking up.
They both ripped their hands away from me, folded their arms, and pouted like children.
Eric gave me a look like, What are you going to do now?
Oh, I had my ways. “Gabrielle, do you remember when you came in to set up this appointment and you told me you knew Richie was the one when you had a period mishap in tenth grade and he came to the rescue, telling you it was a natural part of life and you shouldn’t be embarrassed? Didn’t he give you his jacket to tie around your waist before walking you home?”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “Yes,” she whispered.
“And, Richie, I think I recall hearing that Gabrielle helped you get through school, even learning all she could about dyslexia because you struggled with that.”
Richie looked adoringly at his bride-to-be. “Yeah, she did.” He placed a hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it.
“I think I’ll give you two a moment alone.” I gave Eric and Josie a pointed look and nodded toward the counter, hoping they would follow.
Eric immediately followed me, but Josie stayed put, grabbed another cupcake, and indulged.
Once we were out of earshot of the couple, Eric seemed at a loss for words. He opened his mouth several times to speak, only to end up spluttering. Finally, he said, “I want a sample of your cakes to have them analyzed. You must be drugging them.”
I laughed. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. But go ahead. I’ll give you a slice of everything I sell. You won’t find anything unusual.” That was true. My gifts only unlocked the true potential of the ingredients I used. “I think it’s more of a placebo effect. You know how these rumors start and people just buy into it?”
He shook his head like he wasn’t buying the lie I was trying to sell. “What’s your secret, then? Blackmail?”
“Nah, too time consuming.” I laughed. “Besides, why would I blackmail people to breakup? That would be bad for a wedding cake business.”
“It’s great publicity.” He snapped his fingers. “Maybe that’s it—this is all just a publicity stunt.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You’re mocking me.”
“You’re making it easy.”
He stepped closer to me. The closeness didn’t go unnoticed by me or the burgeoning butterflies in my stomach that were multiplying rapidly. He leaned in as if he were going to kiss me, but then at the last second, he veered to the side of my face, toward my ear. “I don’t like to be mocked,” he whispered, and his breathy words spread a trail of heat from my ear, down my neck, to the tips of my toes.
My hand, I swear, took his without my consent. Surprisingly, when we touched it was as familiar as my father’s hand had been to me, yet different. Eric’s touch filled me with this indescribable hope for the future. And when his fingers intertwined with mine, I felt a connection like no other, like coming home. It was even stronger than in my dreams.
Eric pulled back slightly and looked down at our hands as if he couldn’t believe we were touching, but he didn’t pull away. Instead he held on tighter, though his eyes said he couldn’t explain why.
For a small moment, no one else existed but him and me.
“Eric,” I whispered, as if we were an intimate couple, “please believe me,” I pleaded. Something inside of me told me that he would protect me. “I’m just a cake maker.”
He pulled me closer and raised his other hand as if he wanted to stroke my cheek. But we were interrupted by Josie shoving some papers in my face.
