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CHAPTER42
“Areyou really set on August for the grand opening?” Sylvie followed Lauren into her house, her hands full of groceries. Late July was hot as a burnt hotdog forgotten on the grill and as humid as a wet sponge tossed in the microwave. It would only be that much more brutal in two weeks.
Lauren plopped the paper bags on the counter. “What do you expect me to do? Keep the bakery closed until January?” She reached for the bags Sylvie was carrying.
“You can open, just wait to do the celebration. You can do a soft opening until then.” She handed over the bags in her arms. “It’s not even nine in the morning and its already sweltering outside. Can you even imagine how bad its going to get?”
Lauren laughed. “You’re the only born and bred Miami native I know that’s allergic to heat. It’s not that bad. And it’s not like we’re holding a party outside. It’s just a regular day with lots of giveaways—”
“And a million people coming to support you,” Sylvie added. “When’s the last time you opened a new location? I think you’ve forgotten what kind of pressure that constant in-and-out is going to put on your AC unit.” She shook her head. “Don’t come crying to me when you’re a sweat ball.”
Lauren crossed her small kitchen, the kitchen that had informally become Sylvie’s over the last month. She pinned her to the counter, her lips hovering above Sylvie’s. “What? You’re not going to like me anymore if I’m sweaty and gross?”
Wrapping her arms around Lauren’s waist, Sylvie pretended to ponder the question. “I don’t know. I mean how sweaty do you plan on getting?”
“Is there a limit?” Lauren brushed her lips against hers. “You haven’t complained about it before. Not even after I get off the treadmill.”
Sylvie’s eyes slipped closed as Lauren’s lips grazed her neck. A recent image popped into her mind. Lauren, drenched in sweat, pressing her against the bathroom counter. Sylvie hadn’t let her get in the shower. At least, not until she was perspiring too, and she hadn’t had to run three miles for her workout.
The sound of a ringing phone stopped Lauren’s hand from sliding under Sylvie’s striped t-shirt dress. She’d obviously recognized Sylvie’s mother’s ringtone.
“Ignore it,” Sylvie begged, her fingers already fumbling with the button of Lauren’s denim shorts.
“Did you forget how mad she got when you ignored her last Sunday?” Lauren withdrew her hand and then her body. Sylvie immediately missed the weight of her. “Answer her or she’s going to start to blame me for you not going over there.”
Sylvie shook her head. “We’ve been dating a month and she goes out of her way to make sure I come for lunch alone. I’m not dealing with that. I’d rather have Sunday lunch with you anyway.” She pointed to the groceries.
“To be fair,” Lauren put a carton of eggs in the fridge. “She’s never said I can’t come.”
“Yeah, but she hasn’t invited you with heartfelt enthusiasm.” Sylvie stored a bag of rice in the cabinet. “If she doesn’t accept that we’re a package deal, then I don’t want to eat her delicious food.”
Lauren’s phone dinged with a text message. She checked her smartwatch. “Looks like my parents have food on the mind too.” She grinned. “I’ve been advised I can invite you.”
“Well then.” Sylvie’s smile bloomed straight out of her racing heart. “It looks like we know where we’re going then. At least some people are starting to accept that this is really happening.”
Sylvie’s phone rang again.
“Why don’t you answer it? Just see what she wants. Maybe she’ll surprise you. I’m sure she misses you.” Lauren hooked her pinky in hers. “I know I’d be dying to see you if it had been a week.”
Sylvie smirked. They had yet to spend a night apart since they were rescued from the treehouse. Most days they even crossed paths throughout the day, stopping in on each other just to say hello.
Her phone dinged, alerting Sylvie she had a voicemail. “Fine. I’ll see what she wants.” She rolled her eyes. “But if I get in a bad mood it’s your fault,” she joked before giving Lauren a kiss.
As she listened to her mother’s voicemail, her eyes widened.
Lauren stopped putting away the groceries and stared at her. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Still in shock, Sylvie shook her head. “She wants us to come over for lunch. Both of us. She named you specifically.”
With her hand to her chest, Lauren exhaled with obvious relief. “Jesus, Sylvie. I need you to be less dramatic in these moments, please. I thought someone had died!”
“What are we going to do?”
Lauren furrowed her brow. “Do about what?”
“The two invitations. I don’t want to turn down your parents, but if I reject my mom, it’ll be a whole thing. How much do you think you can eat today?”
Lauren cocked her head to the side, a devilish grin on her perfect lips. “How adventurous are you feeling?”
