I shrugged, unashamed. “Who woulda thunk it?”
We all sat together, talking about the bakery, the upcoming ceremony, and the million little details that needed sortingbefore Saturday. Aspen gave a full report on the cake: “I’ll have the layers baked and cooled, then wrapped and into the chiller. The delivery is at three on Saturday, so I’ll do final assembly and decorating on site. I’m bringing Oscar for quality control.”
Oscar piped up, “I have studied many wedding cakes, Miss. I shall ensure the buttercream is not too sweet.”
Bronc snorted. “Don’t let him near the chocolate. I hear he’s got a problem.”
Oscar looked offended, but only for a second. “Sir, I am a professional.”
Juliet sipped her tea and sighed, content. “You two are going to make the prettiest cake on the continent. I can feel it in my bones.”
I turned to Bronc. “How’s everything on the security end?”
He rolled his eyes. “Church is running drills every night. Arsenal’s got two teams watching the perimeter. If a witch so much as sneezes in Dairyville, we’ll know.”
I nodded. “Good.”
Juliet leaned in, conspiratorial. “So what’s the plan for the ceremony, Papa? I know you’re in charge of the, uh, symbolism.”
I grinned. “You’ll see. I wanted something that matched the two of you. Wild, a little crazy, but still sweet.”
Juliet looked at Bronc, eyes shining. “He’s making us a ritual.”
“I heard,” Bronc said, pride and affection plain on his face. “Wouldn’t trust anyone else with it.”
We finished the tarts and let Aspen get back to work. When Bronc and Juliet left, Juliet hugged Aspen tight and whispered something in her ear that made Aspen blush bright red. Bronc clapped me on the back, then looked me dead in the eye.
“You’re doing a good job,” he said quietly. “She’s stronger than ever.”
“I just want her happy,” I said, and meant it with everything I had.
“She is,” he replied. “Keep it up.”
They left, the door jingling behind them.
The rest of the day was slow, and Aspen used the time to prep doughs for tomorrow’s marathon bake. Oscar took up a post on the windowsill, eyes half-lidded in the late-afternoon sun. I swept the floor, cleaned the counters, and tried not to think about the hundred ways the next few days could go wrong.
I slipped upstairs while Aspen was cleaning the bathrooms and dialed Wrecker. He answered on the first ring, like he knew I’d be calling before I even pressed send.
“What’s up, Papa?” His voice was scratchy with fatigue, probably from an all-nighter patching up the club’s security system.
“Hey, I got a weird request,” I said, glancing at the stairs to make sure Aspen was still downstairs, humming to herself while she worked. “I was wondering if you could pull together some things for me from your playroom? Just the basics. Maybe a nice soft blindfold, some restraints, you know, beginner stuff.”
He laughed long and low. “You planning on making your mate howl tonight?”
“Something like that,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t own any of that shit. Never thought I’d have anyone special enough that I’d need it. I just want to give her a night to really unwind. Like, the whole nine yards.”
“Yeah, man, I got you.” There was shuffling on his end, maybe him digging through the closet or a locked trunk. “You want the leather cuffs or the padded? I’ll even toss in a soft flogger like the one you used at Kozlov’s club.”
I snorted. “Class act. Pack me a sampler, would you? I’ll swing by after close. Aspen can wait in the truck.”
He grunted, but there was affection underneath it. “She’s good for you, Papa. Never seen you so alive.”
“She’s everything,” I said, surprised at the catch in my own voice. “Thanks, brother.”
“Anytime,” he said, then hung up.
As we locked up, Aspen looked at me and smiled, tired but content. “Thank you for everything today,” she said.
