My mom still hasn’t called me back either. I keep thinking about calling her again, and trying to tell her everything that happened, crying like a child that’s discovering the hell of stubbing one’s toes. If nothing else, she should be able to empathize with the horror of running into your ex-husband in public after years of not seeing him.
I’m determined not to let any of it bother me. I’m going to do my job as efficiently as I can, and then in my spare time, I’m going to get ready to pack up and move away.
Until then, I’ve been burying myself under frosting.
“So, these are all buttercream bases. We’ve got lemon buttercream, vanilla buttercream, coconut, toasted marshmallow, cinnamon brown sugar—”
I pause for a glance at Logan, who hasn’t said a word since he greeted me at the front door, now lurking in the Hayes’ kitchen while I set things up.
And honestly, that’s fine.
Of all the Hayes family, he’s probably the one I can deal with the most right now. Even if he wasn’t all that happy that I dragged him out of his office for this first thing in the morning, I wanted to get it out of the way before I got started on the food prep for the brewery. There’s a bunch of stuff I had beenpreparing at the Hayes’ kitchen pre-Shawn’s return that I need to get ready to move to the brewery.
For the wedding cake icing flavors, I’ve taken a little shortcut, and just made a regular batch of buttercream and a batch of meringue in the stand mixer and then sectioned it out and stirred in a few different flavor extracts.
“If you want Swiss meringue, we’ve got the same flavors added to little cups of a batch of that. I am going to draw the line at making multiple types of meringues,” I tell him, because I still have to figure out what to use all the separated egg yolks in. I think I’m going to have to make pasta from scratch and I don’t love the thought of having to dig my pasta roller out.
This whole cake thing has been kinda last minute, and it’s not my usual thing. In my mind, this is cutting corners. Usually, I want clients to have a wide variety of options, not two options disguised as ten.
“You made a lot of icing.” Logan nods.
“I made a couple batches of icing.” I shrug. “Buuuuuut, I also got out some jams I had on hand, and we can make permutations of jams and icings for the cake filling, and then with some of the cakes from yesterday. So now there’s even more options, when you think about it.”
Logan moves further into the kitchen, and stares at the array of little cups and paper slips denoting which icing is which, the pile of spoons for tasting them. He reminds me of a Borzoi sometimes, a face a little too long, with even longer hair.
Instead of tasting anything I’ve prepared, he looks at me and says, “You don’t want Deanna to decide this?”
He rarely calls her “Mom,” especially when talking to me. Maybe it’s a holdover from the work he does at the brewery. Can’t very well call her that to most people.
I hold still for the first time maybe this whole morning, and it puts a crack in the dam in my chest. I don’t know that I could withstand a whole icing and cake taste testing with her right now. I don’t want to be in the same room as her, talking about wedding things, and start marinating on how she never bothered to attend mine.
“Dude, it’s your wedding,” I tell him, and that information doesn’t seem to make much of an impact. “You are required to make some decisions.”
Logan nods once and continues to stare at the icings like they’re a puzzle I’ve laid out for him. Usually, I credit him as being a little more on-the-ball than Aiden, but he seems at a loss for what to do.
“We can toss out the jams part of this if that’s throwing you off,” I suggest weakly. I have a vague feeling that isn’t the problem, though.
Logan turns then, glancing to the doorway, right before Shawn walks by. A little jolt of anxiety moves through me. I don’t know why I didn’t think he’d bother showing up here.
I steel myself against looking at Shawn again. This time may be without the pouring rain to make him look sad and pathetic, but it’s no use. His hair is still that shoulder length, frizzy, curly mess, but you know it’s the softest thing you’ll ever touch. He’s wearing a faded shirt that fits just a little too snug around his biceps and, oh my god, when did his arms get like that? And of course, he’s always got this stupid look on his face like he’s beenenjoying a nice day and seeing you made it even better. I see it when his eyes catch Logan’s.
“Hey, man, just wanted to catch you on my way out,” Shawn says, coming into the room and knocking shoulders with Logan.
Without a doubt, he is the most intensely physical person I’ve ever met. Every time he comes into a room, he has to go hug someone or lean on them or pick them up and haul them over his shoulder.
Even Logan leans into it. “Right, well. Stay out of trouble.”
It almost sounds like he means it humorously, but not quite. A beat goes by before the pair of them look at me just as my heart pinches uncomfortably. I keep eye contact with Logan because it’s easier, but I can see the silent question that he’s been sidestepping, and that Aiden has asked me roughly one hundred times.What’s the deal with you and him?
I have to look away to avoid it.
Something like muscle memory makes me turn to Shawn, somewhat expecting to have to go through the motion of saying hello. But the space between us feels hollowed out when he stands ten feet back. I can see how he’s crossed his arms over his chest, less like he’s mad and more like he’s stopping himself.
And for once, he’s looking at me like his day just got a little worse.
“We’re, um, figuring out the icing and cake combinations, for the big day,” I say, wondering what will make him leave.
Shawn nods, and eyes the marble island with my makeshift buffet. “Is this for everyone to try?”
