Carson appears at my side, sliding an arm around my waist. “Well. That happened.”
I turn my eyes up to him. “Yeah. And Nonna has no cake.”
“Let’s go talk to Norm.”
I blink, letting him take my hand and lead me across the room.
We find Norm in the kitchen where his staff have told him about the cake tragedy and are going to clean it up.
“I am so sorry,” he says immediately to us.
“Oh no! It wasn’t the resort’s fault at all! We had a few kids running wild. I apologize for that.”
“What can you do for some kind of quick dessert?” Carson asks him, reining in his usual scowl for Norm. “I know it’s really last minute, but even if we just got something for our birthday girl, that would be much appreciated.”
Norm nods. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Thanks, man.”
Carson and I leave the kitchen and pause outside the doors. He looks at me and heaves a dramatic sigh. “I was really looking forward to that cake, but I guess I can survive without dessert.”
He’s teasing, his eyes glinting.
“My beautiful party is ruined.”
“Ahh, no.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him, cupping the back of my head. “It’s not ruined. Everyone’s here, everyone’s fine. It’s not the end of the world.”
I press my face to his chest. “I worked so hard to make everything perfect.”
“I know you did.” He rubs my back. “And it’s been amazing. You planned so much. There was bound to be something that went wrong. At least nobody broke a leg on the tube runs. Or drowned in the pool.”
I choke on a laugh. “Okay, that would be worse, yes.”
The music is quieter, more background music than dance music, and the crowd has thinned out now. I guess the parents have taken the kids back to their cottages. Even some of the aunts and uncles have left, probably assuming there’s no dessert. But there’s still my slide show. I feel my mouth sinking into a sad bow. Nobody’s here to see it and I worked so hard on it.
Oh well.
I definitely need another drink. This time, I go for a shot of whiskey and I stand at the bar to drink it, looking around.
Carson’s gone, too. What? Why did he leave?
Now I really want to cry. I toss back another gulp of my drink.
Is this how the party is going to end?
My throat tight, I swallow more whiskey, trying to talk myself out of my sadness and disappointment. What a fiasco.
Some day, the family will laugh about it. This is not that day.
Then Grandma and Grandpa walk back in. Followed by Aunt Francesca and Uncle Brian. And more. My eyes widen. Everyone’s coming back.
The cake has been cleaned up and servers are bringing out plates with some kind of dessert, I think?
I move toward the tables, and stop next to Nonna. “Dessert?”
“Yes!”
It’s waffles, made into ice cream sandwiches and topped with strawberries and whipped cream. It’s not Italian cream cake from Vincenzo’s Pasticceria, but it looks delicious.
