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“Now it must be chilled and the last of the glaze goes on in an hour.” Mathieu beamed at me. “This has been a most wonderful birthday. It smells like home here.”
I couldn’t imagine spending my birthday this far away from my home, but then again… maybe I could. We set it up in the fridge then took care of cleaning up the rest. Mathieu and I sampled some of the remains of the layers and the coffee buttercream was to die for. In fact, I insisted on letting him finish it with some of the remaining sponge cake, which he did with great relish.
Once everything was cleaned up, we reviewed the video and I was surprised by just how relaxed I appeared. I’d been nervous about the whole thing, but I’d spent most of those “videoed” moments talking to him rather than the camera.
“You are happy with my direction?”
“I love it, thank you for doing this.”
“Your dish will be the best,” he told me in all confidence.
I went to grab my laptop and offered him a soda. We moved out to the sofa in the living room and I introduced him to some of my favorite YouTube channels. He wasn’t a history nerd like me and Jake, or into music like Bubba, or even the DIY videos and robotics like Archie, but he did like the architectural videos. He even pulled up a few of “home oddities” in France of places that were just too strange not to be real—like a huge windmill home that had been converted to all these different levels for one person. It was so tiny, yet so perfectly done.
At ten, my timer went off and we abandoned sitting side by side to retrieve the opera cake. We added the chocolate glaze then I cut off a section while he recorded me as I completed my bit about making the opera cake, because dessert was a kind of home away from home.
He applauded and blew me a chef’s kiss before we set the plate on the table between us. With a fork each, we cut into the opposite ends and took the first bites.
It was…divine. I might have moaned at the flavor, but the look of pure ecstasy on Mathieu’s face just made my whole night. He leaned over and cupped my face then pressed a kiss to each cheek before he leaned away.
“Vraiment merveilleux. Je vous remercie. ”
I don’t know what summoned the blush harder, the fact he’d kissed me or that he’d seemed so overwhelmed by the dessert. It was getting late, so I offered to give him a ride home rather than bother his host family. He didn’t want to drag me out, but I kind of wanted more time with him. I also insisted that he take the dessert for his birthday, but he tried to refuse.
I would have to make another one anyway, and that was what finally convinced him, though he did slice off a third of it and told me that I had to keep it.
As he explained, I could eat it on Monday in his honor, so we could still share his birthday together even if we were both occupied.
Once we had the cake boxed up and the Tupperware returned to the bag, I went to grab my keys and wallet. In flip-flops, I let us out the back door and locked it up. When Mathieu took my hand, I got another little flutter moment, but it had nothing on the stomach dropping sensation when I caught sight of Coop just as we got to the car.
He was wandering down the sidewalk like he was coming back from the store on the corner. “Hey, Frankie,” he said by way of greeting, but it wasn’t me he was looking at.
“Hey Coop—Coop Brennan. This Mathieu Domienier.”
“Hey,” Coop said, still staring at the guy. No. Not at Mathieu. At the fact Mathieu held my hand. I almost let go but instead I gripped it a little tighter. I wasallowedto date. “It’s late, isn’t it?”
“Francesca is giving me a ride home.” Okay. He hadn’t really used my whole name that evening, but wow it sounded both weird and hot when he did it.
“Don’t have a car?” A hint of insult rolled in those words.
“No, he doesn’t. Like a few of my friends,” I told him. Hopefully he got theback offvibe. “Anyway, we need to go.” I unlocked the car and Mathieu had to let me go to circle around to the driver’s seat.
“Is it far?” Coop asked.
“Is what far?”
“About fifteen minutes, I believe,” Mathieu answered. “I am staying with the Wheelers.”
“That’s over at Lakeside, right?”
“Probably,” I told Coop. “It’s fine, I’ve driven at night before.”
“Yeah, but it is getting late. I can ride with you so you’re not coming back on your own.”
Seriously?I stared Coop. “I’ll be fine.”
Not waiting for his answer, I waved Mathieu into the car and then slid into the driver’s seat. As I started the engine and turned on the headlights, I caught Coop frowning at us. I waved and then backed out. My last glance of Coop was him on his phone.
Mathieu had given me the address, so I just let the phone’s GPS tell me where to go.
