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“Well, there’s not a lot to tell.”
“Your life is so different now,” Erin says.
I shrug. “Not really. Not as much as you think. Just location, really.”
It’s true. It’s been three days since I moved into his house—if you can even call it a house—and I haven’t seen him once since the night he walked in on me taking a bath. I haven’t even heard anyone utter his name. My days have been filled with getting Tennyson ready for preschool, dropping him off and going to work like nothing has changed. And not much has changed. Well, except that Mayer is now my driver. This being married to Gabriel will be a cinch if he’s never around.
The bell on the door chimes, and I glance into the green eyes of Darla Rothchild, bridezilla, and hide my cringe. Behind her is her fiance, Jordan Masters, Erin’s childhood friend.
Last week, the two of them came into the shop to book a cake tasting appointment, and to say Erin was shocked to see him would be an understatement.
Jordan’s crystal blue eyes, accented by black rimmed glasses, land on Erin before moving to his fiancée. “Slow down, Darla,” he says as Darla barrels toward Erin and I behind the counter.
Her bag brushes against a display of candles, sending some to the floor. She keeps moving.
“What does he see in her?” Erin whispers next to me.
“We’re here for the tasting,” Darla says, stopping in front of us and brushing her red hair off her shoulder.
I plaster on a smile. “Absolutely, follow me.”
Jordan picks up the candles, placing them back, then runs a hand through his jet-black hair, leaving it sticking up in an array of madness. He ambles across the store until he stands next to Darla.
“Hi, Erin,” Jordan says before turning to follow me into the tasting area where we have a table with a white-linen tablecloth for couples to taste cakes before ordering one for their wedding.
Erin doesn’t answer, and I wish my boss hadn’t booked this appointment. It’s clear Erin isn’t happy about Jordan’s impending wedding, even though she says she hasn’t seen him in years.
“Where will the wedding be held?” I ask as they take a seat.
Darla rolls her eyes just a tiny bit. “Well, we wanted to get married at the Juniper. Buuuut,” she draws out the word, “someone bought out all the dates for this month in the off-chance they would get married on one of the days.”
The Juniper is a five-star, five-diamond hotel with extravagant ballrooms that house weddings for the rich and famous. It’s the place to have your dream wedding.
“That must have cost a fortune. Who would do that?”
“Gabriel Prince.”
I’m speechless.
“Darla wants to get married by the end of the month,” Jordan says. “Not really sure what the rush is.”
“Not sure what the rush is?” Darla’s voice escalates after each word. “I told you Daddy wants to make sure we’re married before he moves you up at his company.”
I decide to change the subject before a fight breaks out. “So, cake,” I say with pep in my voice to get everyone, including me, back on track.
Darla smiles. “Yes, cake.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes with your samples.”
I head into the back kitchen and grab my phone. I send off a quick text to Gabriel, “Did you book every day at the Juniper for our possible wedding?”
He takes seconds to answer, “Yes.”
“Why? Maybe I don’t want to get married there.” Let me get one thing out, I would love to get married there—and may have even dreamed about it a time or two—but, I hate having my choices stripped from me. And this is all so fast.
“Clementine, you’re testing my patience. Where would you like to get married then?”
My fingers fly over the keypad of my phone. “At the Juniper.”
