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I remove two wine glasses from the cabinet. “I’m glad you came.”
“Are you ok?”
I nod while she makes quick work of opening a bottle of Chardonnay and pouring it into our glasses. I take a long pull, letting it settle my frazzled nerves. I’m still shaking.
“I’m sure it was nothing.” Erin’s face is completely serious, and I want to believe it.
“I’m sure too.”
I’m also sure I need to tell Gabriel. I need to tell him everything. I trust him, may even love him, and he needs to know.
“I got the picture you sent of the dress,” Erin says. “It’s breathtaking.”
I smile, but still can’t shake off the fear. “Thanks.”
Erin takes a sip of her wine. “I know the wedding isn’treal,but I still think it’s going to be beautiful. I’m really happy for you.”
“It’s only for a year,” I give her what feels like a pre-recorded answer.
“Clem, I see the way Gabriel stares at you.” She runs a finger around the rim of her glass. “And the way you stare back.”
My cheeks heat. “I don’t stare at him any particular way.”
Erin smiles. “Yes, you do. And it’s ok. He’s gorgeous. If I were marrying him, I’d be staring that way too.”
“It isn’t like that.” I move to the fridge and open the door. “I have some fruit. Want some?”
“Fruit? Got any cake in there?”
I laugh. “Actually, yes. The wedding cake.”
Erin hops up and crosses to me. “Let me see.” She takes a peek at the four tiers I baked and decorated earlier today that will be assembled tomorrow. “It’s gorgeous.”
“We could eat a little piece of the top,” I suggest with a grin. “Three tiers is plenty.”
“No, that would be wrong,” she says with a laugh. “Wouldn’t it? What about the tradition of freezing the top of the wedding cake and eating it a year later on your anniversary?”
“You mean on the divorce?” I eye her seriously. “It’s not a real wedding.” I pull out the small top and place it on the countertop. “It’s little. No one will ever miss it.”
After I find a knife, forks, and two saucers, I slice through the white fondant roses with edible pearl centers and plate the pieces of cake.
“Oh man, this is heaven,” Erin says, after taking a bite.
“Gabriel really liked it,” I say. My belly gets that familiar ache in it remembering the tasting and his words comparing it to sex.
“He seems to care about you.”
I swallow my bite of cake. “Why do you think that?”
She shrugs. “Sometimes you just know things.” She takes another bite. “You can’t see it because it’s happening to you.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
She laughs. “It is. Just like when you’re dating a loser and everyone else can see it, except you.”
“Yeah. But I don’t think that’s the case with Gabriel. Have you seen Jordan since that day?” I ask her, changing the subject.
“I forgot to tell you,” she says, with a grin. “We’re going to catch up next weekend.”
