“Okay, okay, we’ll get a nice cake,” I say, still chuckling.
“Not just nice,”
“Okay. Aperfectcake,” I say, and she studies me before half deciding to trust me. Then she tightens her ponytail, and we walk inside the bakery. It’s a boutique place with multiple pastry cases loaded with assorted decorated baked goods. There’s also a coffee menu, and the whole place smells like frosting.
“I’m Jen,” a small blonde girl in a light pink apron with powder blue ruffles around the edges says with a smile. “Are you here for the tasting for the Lacey wedding?”
“Yes,” Charlotte says with a smile. “Oh, but we aren’t them. The bride and groom, I mean. That’s Ben and Holly. We are Gavin and Charlotte. He’s Gavin, I’m Charlotte. And we’re not getting married.”
“Anything else?” I ask, and Charlotte’s cheeks flare. Jen just smiles and leads us to a back room.
“So this is where we do most of our decorating, but I cleared the tables for sampling,” she says. She gestures to a line of single-layer cakes divided into bite-size pieces. “As you can see, we have everything you can think of and more. Here at The Buttercream Society?—”
The Buttercream Society? Jesus.
“We pride ourselves on giving our customers more options than just the traditional ones.”
I perk up and turn to look at Charlotte.
“That’s wonderful,” she says with a staged smile. “You do have traditional cakes and flavors, right?”
“Of course,” Jen says. “Our elevated three-tier white cake with vanilla icing is a top seller.”
“That sounds perfect,” she nods, flipping through one of the books.
“Some of our more modern cakes have been very popular as well, and the flavors are unconventionally fabulous!”
“That’s okay,” Charlotte says. “We aren’t looking for anythingunconventional.”
I lean forward. “What exactly do you mean by modern?” I ask.
“Gavin?” Charlotte says through a smile, but she's showing her teeth like a dog in a fight ring.
“I’m just asking. There’s no harm in that, is there?” I ask.
“No, there’s not,” Jen answers for her. “And there’s also nothing wrong with tasting all the cakes.”
I smile as Jen places some samples in front of us. I don’t have to look at Charlotte to know she’s pissed. I’m not trying to steamroll her here. I know what she wants. But who passes up free samples?
“So here we have the trad menu,” Jen says, pointing at the little cake cubes that literally all look exactly the same. “This is vanilla, almond, and white.”
“Lovely,” Charlotte says, gingerly cutting into one of them. “I was thinking vanilla, but the almond would be a little more fun. It certainly smells good–what are you doing?”
I turn with a mouth full of cake to see Charlotte gaping at me as if I had just eaten the actual wedding cake. “What?” I mumble.
“You’re supposed to taste them separately. Not all at the same time,” she says.
“Why? They’re pretty much the same thing,” I say as I lick my fingers. “Although I do see what you’re saying about the almond. Very nutty.”
Charlotte is glaring.
Jen is cracking up.
“Why don’t we move on to the other menu, shall we?” she asks.
“What are these?” Charlotte asks, poking at an orange cake cube flecked with green.
“Don’t knock ‘em till you try ‘em,” she says. I’m intrigued; Charlotte is not. “We have mango jalapeno, maple bacon, and lavender honey, which is a fan favorite.”
