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I pout as I flex the muscles in my fingers one by one, trying to shake off the soreness. Gripping the piping bag for so long has left my hand aching.
Whoever the engagement is for, they wanted everything done up to the nines. I’m finally done piping the cupcakes, and everything else is already boxed. I glance up at the wall clock, and my eyes widen as I realize I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry up.
Luckily, while I’ve been doing this, the other staff for the event has been putting everything else in the van’s refrigerator. Cupcakes, tiramisu, even miniature butter tarts. If the dessert table is this full, I could only imagine what the rest of the catering must look like for the event.
I start carefully packing the cakes away. About ten minutes later, I’m ready. Everything gets stored in the truck, and I double-check the internal fridge’s temperature. Perfectly cold. The staff is all ready to go, too, and soon we’re off.
By the time we get to the building, we are fifteen minutes early. I am relieved to see we have a bit of breathing room, as my nerves worried I was cutting it close by leaving so late.
I instruct the staff to start unpacking the boxes and bring them inside. We had to bring in the dolly cart from our shipping area, just to make sure everything could go in at once and we wouldn’t have to make a bunch of trips. As they push the loaded dolly toward the door, I call the organizer.
“Hi. This is Josephine from Amy’s Coffee and Pastries. We’re inside the building with your order. By the front.”
The woman who answered tells me to wait as someone will be right there. I relay the message to my team. After we hang up, it is only a couple more minutes before the lady comes over to lead us in the correct direction.
“Hello! Thank you so much for being early. We’re running behind schedule, so it’s great that you showed up now.” She starts rambling off about everything that is going right, wrong, or just not happening. As we walk in, I am glad to not have to converse, as she does all of the talking for both of us.
When we get to our station, she gestures for us to start unpacking. I give everyone their directions and then take a second to look around. The place is magnificent. It is clear that twoveryrich families are getting together. The event space looks like something out of a movie.
I settle the signatures and invoice with the organizer as my staff heads out to the van with the empty crates. Just as I am about to leave as well, a familiar figure walks in through the main entrance.
It is him. The man from the cafe. I hadn’t seen him for a few days, and he looks much more upset today than he did then. My eyes wander from his face down to his outfit. It is gorgeous.
It looks perfectly tailored to his body. He is still unbelievably handsome, from head to toe. I feel the flutter in my heart, that undeniable excitement at seeing him again. I stifle the big grin I feel coming on.What is he doing here?
His eyes scan the room, and he looks tired. When he finally looks my way, our eyes meet. His expression perks up a little, more surprised now than tired.
I break away and start to turn to my table, not wanting to tempt the fates. Our relationship has exclusively been eye contact, and even that is enough to make my heart pound. If I ask for too much, it just might kill me.
I hear the footsteps walking up behind me, a softclickon the marble floors. A deliciously deep voice stops me from my tedious platter arranging.
“Are you working as the staff here?” Even with my back to him, I just know it is my handsome stranger. His voice matches the rest of him, smooth, sexy and masculine.
I open my mouth to answer, but someone walks over to him. They start rambling words that sound like nonsense to me, and I feel like I should back away. This isn’t my conversation. As curious as I am, I should be minding my own business.
He stops the person with a hand and looks at me. “I have to go. But I’ll be back here later.” His smile is warm, and I feel it deep in my stomach. Nervously, my mouth stretches into a smile of its own. The handsome stranger backs away and walks away with the organizer.
Immediately, I want to keep myself busy. I fiddle and tweak the display, adjusting each dessert almost mindlessly. I want it to look perfect, but more than anything, I want it to be a distraction.
The nagging thoughts at the back of my mind still taunt me, wanting me to address them. I do my best to push them aside, but eventually, they demand to be heard. There are only so many times I can turn a cupcake until I have to admit it doesn’t matter which way it’s facing.
Is he the one getting engaged?Where the warmth once was, a deep pit in my stomach takes over.How cruel of my brain to get excited over a man who’s getting married.
I chew my lip, looking around the space. I pretend I’m just looking to make sure my dessert table fits the rest of the room, but I’m really looking to see who is here. I try to recall the woman I saw him come into the shop with. Is she here now? Is she his fiance?
There are a lot of people here. It seems to be a big event. Everyone looks incredibly professional. I see my handsome stranger talking to a woman, and the pit in my stomach gets bigger.
Part of me wishes I wasn’t here. That the floor could just swallow me up so I won’t have to watch the event from the service station.
This is silly. You barely know him!My mind starts to re-evaluate.Why are you so upset that someone you see in a coffee shop is getting engaged?I know my brain is right, but it feels like my heart wants it not to be true.
I shouldn’t care this much. I shouldn’t want him for my own this badly. A man I don’t even know.
And I don’t. I’m a reasonable woman, a woman who knows better than to get caught up in a silly infatuation.
As long as I ignore the pounding in my chest, I can almost believe it’s true.
6
