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Sunday morning, after the early service at the Lutheran church, I swing by the Bäckerei. When Nica steps out of the Rotheberg Gasthaus a little after ten, I’m waiting with the signature pink box in hand.
I was awake most of the night, wrestling with my feelings for her and our discussion last night. Early this morning, I decided I’d rather have whatever Nica can give than nothing at all. If all she wants is a short-term fling, I’m in. Because the only other option is to cut her out of my life completely, and I don’t think I can do that.
And not only because I’m playing her love interest in the town musical. But that was definitely part of the decision. I considered texting my understudy and telling him he was on, but Edie would kill me. Mike Greenwood is in no way prepared to play the role, despite having had all spring to learn the part. Quitting now would put me in Edie’s black books forever, and that woman has a long memory. Not to mention she’s married to my boss.
If I’m going to have to play opposite Nica in the musical, I need to make peace with her. My heart will be broken either way, so why not enjoy what I can first?
“Peace offering?” I push the box in her direction.
She moves closer and lifts the lid to peek inside. “You got me a Berliner and streuselkuchen? I can’t believe you remembered.”
“Why not? The marionberry is my favorite, too.” I carry the box to a picnic bench in the Gasthaus’s side yard. I set the box down next to a pair of coffee cups I put there earlier and produce forks with a flourish.
“I don’t need a fork.” She reaches in and pulls out the huge streusel-topped chunk. Closing her eyes, she sinks her teeth into the moist cake, moaning a little. The sound sends a spike of want through me, but not desire for the cake. I watch as she chews and swallows, my gaze lingering on her closed eyes, her flushed cheeks, her long neck.
“So good! Just like I remembered.” Her eyes pop open, and she holds the cake out to me. “Wanna bite?”
I can’t turn down marionberry cake, and I definitely can’t say no to Nica. I touch her wrist to steady her hand, and electricity zings through me. Our eyes meet, and I get lost in her sea blue gaze. Her lips curve, and she pushes the cake closer to my mouth. Eyes locked, I take a bite, barely noticing the sweet, buttery taste.
With a laugh, she pulls away, putting the cake back into the box, clearly not affected by the connection I feel. The collision of my want and her friendly indifference leave me sagging. I step back to lean against the building, not sure my legs will continue to hold me up.
She picks up the fork and uses it to cut the remaining cake in two. “If I don’t divide this now, I’ll eat more than my fair share.” She gives one half a little push with the fork, then picks up the other, avoiding my eyes.
“I brought it for you.” I can’t seem to get enough air, and my voice comes out strangled.
She glances at me and quickly away, focusing on the pastry. “I’m an actor, remember? I can’t eat all of that. Not if I want to fit into my costume tomorrow.” She taps one of the coffee cups. “Is this for us, too?”
I nod and clear my throat. “One black, one with cream—take your pick. There’s sugar and artificial sweetener in the carrier.”
She pops the lid off one, then sets it aside and adds sweetener to the other. Stirring with the fork, she slants a look at me. “Why don’t you sit down?”
I sit at the far corner of the table, with the box and cups between us. I take the remaining coffee—the one with cream—and blow on it. I’m way out of my depth here. I decided I’d take whatever Nica was willing to give, but it’s been so long since I dated anyone, much less a celebrity. I’m awkward and nervous. The age difference between us disappears as if I’m nineteen all over again.
Nica finishes her cake and smiles at me, her eyes warm and inviting. My nerves disappear because, deep in my soul, I know she’s the one. No matter what she said about short-term relationships and returning to LA. This can’t possibly be one-sided. Can it?
“Do you need help with anything today?” I pull a corner off the remaining chunk of cake.
Her eyes follow the cake and linger on my lips in a way that gets my blood pumping even faster. When she tears her eyes away, I can almost feel the snap. She sips some coffee and shakes her head. “I have one suitcase. I think I can manage.” She stares into the distance for a few seconds. “But maybe you can come over for dinner? I owe you a couple of meals.”
“That sounds—no, it’s not going to work. Eva comes home today.” The shot of dismay is followed by a flash of guilt—I should be happy my daughter is back.
“Bring her with you! I’d love to meet her.”
A little chill goes through me. If she’s inviting Eva, she clearly didn’t intend for it to be a date. Nica is obviously attracted to me, but bringing a third wheel isn’t going to help build my case for a long-term relationship. Besides, Eva and I have a tradition. “I can’t. We always have steak and watch European Vacation when she comes home from school. Plus, I’ve got a prank to finish.”
“A prank?”
I nod. “It’s our thing.” I pull out my phone and open my TikTok account, swiping to the plastic wrap incident.
She watches the clip and laughs, then swipes to the next video, laughing even harder. “I can’t imagine my dad doing that. Or how he’d react if I did. We definitely don’t have that kind of relationship.” A hint of sadness underlies her cheerful tone.
I take the phone and slide it back into my pocket. “We’re kind of twisted. And I’ve got to run. She’ll be home this afternoon, and I need to finish the one I’m setting up. I’ve got most of her room covered in sticky notes. Now I need to fill it with balloons.”
Nica gapes at me with the Berliner halfway to her mouth. “You what?”
I pull the phone out again and show her a picture of Eva’s room. Every surface is covered in a clutter of bright Post-it notes. “I’ve been working on it since she left in April. A few pads each week. But I want to fill it with balloons, too.” I swipe to the next picture. The floor is covered in blue balloons. “That part is taking a lot longer than I expected.”
“Is this why you didn’t want me going in there?” She sets the phone on the table, zooming and panning across the picture as she eats the jelly-filled donut. “Maybe I can help you. I can’t get into my rental house until four.”
