My eyes dart to his. “The showing went well,” I say. “The apartments have a lot of interest, just as I knew they would.”
He narrows his eyes as he tidies up after assisting me when he dropped off the goodies from the bakery. “Uh huh, but I wasn’t talking about the apartments, Bradley Lucas. I know that whistling tune anywhere.”
“Can’t a man just be happy without having to explain why?”
Mason thinks for a second, then says; “Sure, but this isyouwe’re talking about.” His face grows serious. “Just be good to her. She’s a good person, B, and a great friend.”
I swallow hard. “Yes, I know. We’ve been friends a long time, too. I’d never hurt her. Believe me, I’ve changed my ways?—”
“I can see the difference in you. In fact, I’ve known for months, it just took you a little longer to catch on.”
I roll my eyes. “Keep on with the insults and you won’t get that bonus I’ve been talking to Dad about.”
“Ah, bribery, there’s the Bradley I know and love.” He waves at some clients who walk in the door, granted they’re late, but we never turn a potential buyer away.
I end up staying longer to show the couple around, and after handing them the last of the cupcakes, we finally call it a day. The couple own a boutique hotel and were wildly enthused with Chelsea’s baking as well as the display apartment. They are keen to see a few of the other layouts during the week.
I handed them a business card of mine and Sweet Confetti, letting them know she’s expanding. Okay, that’s a little bit of a stretch, but I always try to err on the side of positive. One of Chelsea’s dreams is to have a more personalized approach with her business. That only reinforces what I was thinking earlier about her taking a step back and getting a manager so she can take more time for herself. She could do more of the things in the business she loves; like creating instead of working till all hours of the day and night. I know she would love more timeto talk to her clients, design birthday and wedding cakes, throw kids’ parties and have time to enjoy it, not baking for the entire event and then missing it all. I know how workaholics are, I’m one myself. But I’m starting to realize how fickle and short life is. I don’t want it to pass me by anymore.
I race home to have a quick shower and get changed. I’m still wearing slacks and a collared shirt, but I forgo the dinner jacket for something more casual.
When I arrive, the whole family is already here. I’m always fashionably late, not because I’m purposely trying to be an asshole, but because I’m usually stuck on the phone with a client, or finishing up at work.There I go again.Maybe Mason is right, and I do need to relax. Funny, I’ve never been as relaxed as I felt last night. Even with the lack of sleep, I’m wired. Just the fact that I get to see her again, knowing what we did last night and we’re both very okay with it… my heart accelerates as I glance around the packed patio. Mason and Bobby invited only family and a few close friends, but I sometimes forget they’re gay and know everyone. I find the boys and pull Bobby into a hug. “For you, bro, happy birthday. Oh, it’s a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt and short set with a belt, Mason picked it out.”
Bobby grins. “He does have the best taste.”
“Not all the time,” I say behind my hand. “But I have to be nice to him so he doesn’t quit.”
Mason rolls his eyes, and I’m sure he’s about to mock me when Deaton runs past with a fluffy little dog in his arms. “Brad, look!” He holds the fluff ball out to me. “Isn’t he the cutest? Please beg my mom for a puppy,please!”
I ruffle Deaton’s hair. “I don’t know, bud. I think your mom wants to wait until you have a big enough yard?—”
I don’t like the way his face drops, but I also know how Chelsea feels about making promises, and I don’t want to get his hopes up. I could try to persuade Chelsea, but the bakeryprobably isn’t the smartest idea for a dog, unless it’s a chihuahua and doesn’t need to run around a lot. I smirk at the idea. Little dogs can be terrifying.
Deaton’s already running off, showing the puppy to someone else. I look around for Chelsea, when I spot her, my eyes drop over the length of her body. She’s wearing a light green dress that falls just above her knees. Her hair is out, curled in waves flowing down her back. She’s a vision. More beautiful than ever before. She laughs at something my dad says, then her eyes flick to me. I raise my champagne glass, then excuse myself from the boys, eager to get closer to my girl.
“Here’s the man in question.” Dad pats me on the back. “Late as usual.”
The roll of my eyes comes naturally hearing that. “I was just busy closing a deal, actually, and I was taught by the best, so don’t blame me, Pops, blame yourself.” I smile at Chelsea. “Hello.”
“Hi, Brad.” She smiles, her cheeks pinkening.
I turn to Alison, who looks between me and Chelsea. “You look lovely, Ali.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “As always.”
“And you look like the cat who got the cream,” she says softly.
I give her a look, then greet my brothers and Lexi.
Do I really look different?
Does everyone know?
I mean, that’s crazy, but I still pull myself together. I don’t want everyone knowing until Chelsea is ready, and we need to tell Deaton first and make sure he’s okay with it. Not that he wouldn’t be, we get along great.
Canapés are passed around, and I give Chelsea a chin lift. “Get all your baking done?”
Her eyes sparkle. “Yes, thank you for the help.”
“What kind of help could he really be?” Noah pipes up. “He doesn’t bake, heck, brother, do you even know how to microwave?”
