“What? Izzy!” I whisper-shout at her. “Stop it this instant.”
“What?” She shrugs. “He’s cute, that’s for damn sure. And why not date him? He seems like he likes you.”
“He literally just said my name. How does that equal him liking me?”
“Uh, because he didn’t saymyname, and I walked in right next to you.”
“Your usual, too, Izzy?” Kai calls over to us as if on cue.
She gives him a thumbs-up, and I arch my brow at her as we set our stuff down. “You were saying?”
She huffs as we make our way to the front counter. “Whatever. I still think you should give him a shot. I mean, I see no reason not to. It’s not like you’re seeing anyone, right?”
I stumble. Trip right over absolutely nothing. And it’s all thanks to Izzy’s words.
“Shit. You okay?” she asks, grabbing me from behind to help steady me.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just a klutz and tripped over a chair leg.” I right myself, then keep going, refusing to look back and make eye contact with my best friend as I lie to her. “And right. I’m not seeing anyone, but I’m swamped trying to save my business, you know? So let’s table the dating discussion for later, yeah?”
She sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Business first, sexy times with the hot barista later.”
I shoot her a look as Kai emerges from the back room, my favorite bagel in hand.
I look him over. Izzy’s right—he is cute. He clearly spends a good deal of time at the gym, and his dirty-blond hair and green eyes give him a very boy-next-door sort of look.
But he doesn’t do anything for me in the ways he should. He’s missing scruff along his jawline, graying hair at his temples, and creases at the corners of eyes that should be brown.
Simply put, he’s not Noah.
And that thought is scarier than I care to admit.
We take our coffees and breakfast, then settle in at the table just as our florist comes through the doors.
She’s wonderful. Absolutely everything I remember from our first meeting, and it’s no wonder that one went on too long. She’s so easy to talk to and perfectly understands what I envision for this wedding.
We end the meeting with everything finalized—soft blues and whites with pops of peach, calla lilies, lisianthus, roses, and sunflowers. A little simple, a dash of elegance, and some wild mixed in for the barn-and-farm theme.
Izzy’s so excited when we leave that she skips—literally—the entire way to For Goodness Cake.
“Oh my gosh. I am starving,” she says as we pull open the door, the sugary waft of air hitting us as we step inside the bakery. “I amsoready for all the cake. I just wish Craig could have been here for this.”
“It is a bit of a bummer. Did he at least give you a list of what he likes?”
“No chocolate he says, but it sucks because I—”
“Love chocolate, I know.” I tap my finger on my chin. “Maybe we can find a compromise that works for both of you. We’ll see what Sybill can make happen.”
The small old woman who has been making cakes in this town since day one, it seems, walks out from the back and wraps us both in hugs. She’s one of the few contacts that hasn’t abandoned me after the wedding disasters. I told her I would understand if she didn’t want her business associated with mine anymore, but she just laughed at me, boxed up my favorite cotton candy cupcake, and sent me on my way.
We gather at her designated cake-tasting table—an old thing that’s been sitting in the corner of her shop since forever—and Sybill loads up the table with different combinations, from customer favorites, big hits from previous events, and a few of her more original creations.
About fifteen different combinations later, we think we have it nailed down, but it would really help to have Craig here to make the final decision.
“Ugh, I can’t decide. This is impossible.” Izzy juts her bottom lip out as she stares down at the cakes.
“I know it’s hard, but we really do need to get this sorted today.”
“What would you pick if you were in my shoes?”
