“If the board has concerns, they can come to me directly,” I bit out, holding her gaze without flinching. “I’m done letting you dictate my life. We got married because it benefited the company. But it’s over now. The judge’s signature on our divorce decree proves that.”
She couldn’t resist one final jab as she turned toward the door.
“You didn’t fight for her back then, so you cannot possibly expect her to believe that you will now.”
The door slammed behind her before I could respond, but her words hit their mark. A part of me admitted she was right. But it didn’t stop me from wondering what it would take to convince Tessa to give us a second chance.
5
TESSA
By Thursday evening, my kitchen looked like controlled chaos. Sheet pans cooled on racks, piping bags lined the counter, and I had enough buttercream bowls out to frost a wedding cake. Instead, the frenzy was for a sweet sixteen. But not for just any birthday girl…she was Serena Watts’s sister.
Even thinking her name gave me a weird flutter in my stomach. I’d made cakes for plenty of high-profile clients, but this was the biggest one I’d taken on. And even though she’d been sweet in her messages, I stressed about making the cake perfect.
My phone buzzed on the stainless-steel table beside me, and the screen lit up with her username.
serenawattsofficial: What time works for tomorrow? I need to make arrangements with the pilot.
I stared at her message for a second, hoping my brain would stop tripping over itself at the idea that I was coordinating a pickup time with a celebrity I adored.
I wiped my hands on a towel and typed back, keeping my message professional even though I felt like squealing.
hale&honey: Any time after noon is perfect. The cake will be ready and boxed. Looking forward to seeing you!
Serena had let me know just yesterday that she planned to come pick up her sister’s cake herself, which only added to my nervousness.
I returned to the cake layers cooling in front of me, running my hand lightly over the top to check their temperature. They were still too warm to frost, but their texture was perfect. Soft but structured enough to support the design I had planned. The filling chilled in the fridge exactly the way it should. The modeling chocolate had come together without cracking. Every piece of this cake was cooperating.
Sleep was a distant memory at this point. Three nights of sketching designs, making flavor adjustments, and redoing the lace stencil when I caught one tiny imperfection that no one else would’ve noticed. But that was the thing about custom cakes—the details made the magic.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and murmured to myself, “Totally worth it.”
Cake details were something I could control. In this kitchen, nothing blindsided me. I was in charge.
My throat tightened as I wished that I had a special someone to share my excitement with. Jace was great, but he was more of a friend than a romantic partner. He wasn’t the first person I thought to call when something wonderful happened. Another man was, even after all this time.
Instead of kicking myself over that, I focused on creaming the butter for the frosting. Then when the cake cooled enough,I stacked them with filling between the layers and began to smooth a thin layer of buttercream over the tiers, my hands moving with muscle memory. Calm washed through me with each turn of the cake stand. I was good at this. It was my safe place.
My career was thriving, and I was grateful for it every single day.
But as I stepped back to admire the expert job I’d done on the frosting, it didn’t ease the pain of knowing that success didn’t fill every empty space. Some of them stayed, no matter how much frosting I used.
I didn’t have time for ghosts today, though. I had a celebrity cake to finish. So I shook the feeling off and got back to work.
The frosted cake was chilling in the fridge, and I was prepping the stencil for the contrasting buttercream layer on the bottom tier when there was a knock on the back door.
I wasn’t expecting a delivery, and Jenny had gone home a couple of hours ago. My pulse sped up until I heard Jace call, “It’s just me.”
Stripping off my gloves, I crossed the room to open the door. Jace had a cup of iced coffee in one hand. “I saw your lights still on and figured some extra caffeine would help if you were doing your workaholic thing again tonight.”
“I don’t have much of a choice this time.” I huffed out a laugh as I accepted the coffee from him. “Or else my customer will fly all the way across the country to pick up a cake she could’ve gotten from any high-end bakery in California.”
“Fair point.” His gaze swept over the counter and snagged on the tray of molded chocolate flowers I’d finished earlier. “Are these edible?”
“They’re white chocolate, dyed lilac to match the color palette,” I confirmed.
“Sounds like a yes to me.” He grinned and reached for one, closing his eyes when he bit into one of the petals. “So good.”
