I can’t believe that bastard would go as far as sending me an invitation—that even Stefan would stoop so low as to ruin his fiancée’s wedding day to prove a point. Foolish of me to believe he has any humanity left.
I’m about to crumple it when I read the location.
The Kingsley in Aurora Hills.
It’s one of the most famous and luxurious venues in Southern California. I’m not surprised his mother would choose it. Martha is probably hoping she can erase the stain of our marriage from everyone’s minds.
I’ve been trying to scrub it from my own for years.
What irritates me is the fact he’s having the ceremony here, five hundred miles away from where he lives.
Suddenly unsettled, I rip the invitation into as small of pieces as I can and throw it in the trash. I shake my arms and head, trying to get my earlier mood back. After a few deep breaths, I push through the kitchen door and do my best to not think about it—about him.
Quickly, I wrap my hair into a bun and tie a bandana around it. It’s not my favorite hairstyle, but it’s better than a hairnet. Mentally, I go over the two cakes I need to finish while washing my hands.
The cupcakes that go with theJaws-themed birthday cake are finished—vanilla cake dyed blue with red frosting and little dolls poking out. All that’s left is the main sheet cake, but the eleven-year-old girl requested for a shark to be taking a bite out of the corner, and the plastic head just came in this morning.
My business partner and friend, Lexi, and I barely held it together while she gave me the details for the cake.
As for the other, it’s on the other spectrum of birthday cake requests I get. It’s a dramatic, four-layer round cake. She requested a vintage style that is inspired byFancy Nancy. The note said, “If you think you’ve added enough gems, sparkles, and/or glitter,add more.”
Girls in their twenties are a whole different type of creative in their orders, but I’m really excited for that one. I had no idea whoFancy Nancywas until a week ago. The books had been published when I was already in high school. Fair to assume I would have beenobsessedif I had been the target age.
“Hey, Boss,” my assistant baker Chuck calls.
“Good morning,” I greet, drying my hands and turning toward him.
We’ve been working together for six years, so he is well acquainted with all of my moods.
Chuck is an older Black man who has been in the baking business for over twenty years, and he’s been with Brighter Daze since the beginning.
“The new recipe is done, if you want to taste it while it’s warm.”
Turning on my heel, I throw the paper towel away and walk toward his bread station in the corner. “Yeah, let’s try it. Which one is this again?”
Already cutting off a piece when I step up next to him, he reminds me, “S’mores.”
Scrunching my nose, I know better than to question Chuck’s instincts by now. I thought he was crazy when heinitially brought up the idea of expanding our sourdough options. His fourteen-year-old granddaughter showed him a few videos online about the new fad. My future brother-in-law Grady and our friend Knox confirmed that a lot of their high school students talk about it all the time.
So, I put my trust in Chuck because he’s never let me down before. I can still say that to this day.
I hadn’t been a huge fan of sourdough, so the trend didn’t make sense to me. It’sgood, sure, but I tend to prefer recipes that call for milder yeast, like traditional baguettes and focaccia. A good wheat loaf really hits the spot, too.
I stand by that opinion with plain sourdough. However, the recipes Chuck has made would almost convert me.
Overall, it has been a small pot of gold. We sell starter packs and Bake Your Own Sourdough Loaf kits that are popular for dinner parties and bachelorette weekends. We’ve been brainstorming baking classes open to the public, but the space is tight. It’s just a pipe dream we talk about most mornings.
The door separating the bookstore and kitchen swings open, revealing a yawning Ana.
“Are we doing a taste test?” she excitedly asks, perking up at the smell of gooey chocolate.
“We are,” Chuck calls out. “Grab the butter, will you?”
Ana quickly skips to the refrigerator. “I’ve been waiting for this one since you mentioned it last month.”
“That makes one of you,” Chuck jokes, lifting his chin in my direction.
Crossing my arms and rolling my eyes, I tell them, “You know I’ve loved almost all of them, especially the sweet ones; and bonfires are popular during the summer.”
