by Kat Cantrell
Expansion? Her eyebrows lifted almost by themselves. “Are you suggesting I could become a chain?”
The idea seemed so far-fetched. She just made cupcakes and had no ambitions beyond being able to recognize regular customers. But she didn’t hate the idea of seeing more Cupcaked signs around Raleigh. Maybe even in Chapel Hill or by the university. The thought of owning a mini-cupcake empire made her smile. Poor substitute for Jonas. But not a terrible one.
“I’m not suggesting it. I’m flat out saying if that’s what you want, I will make it happen for you. Sky’s the limit, Mrs. Kim.” He waggled his brows. “You should take as much advantage of me as you possibly can. Ask for anything.”
Mrs. Kim. What if she told him that she’d like to ask him to call her that for the rest of her life? What would he say?
Before she could open her mouth, he launched into another long litany of things to consider for her shop and his gleeful tone told her he was having fun helping her think through the items that might appear on her five-year plan. They talked about any number of ideas from branded cupcake mix to be sold in grocery stores to licensing her flavors to other cupcake bakeries.
Frankly, the discussion was fun for her, too. Partially because she was having it with Jonas and she loved watching his mind churn through the possibilities. But she couldn’t deny a certain anticipation regarding the leaps and bounds Cupcaked could take through the doors her husband might open for her.
Camilla popped in to say hi and make sure Viv was okay with her opening the bakery to customers. Viv nodded her assent and dove back into the fascinating concept of franchising, of which Jonas admitted having only a rudimentary knowledge, but he knew way more than she did. She wanted to know more.
His phone rang and he lifted a finger in the universal “one minute” gesture, jabbering away to the caller with a bunch of terms that sounded vaguely legal. Eventually, he ended the call and stood.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to get back to the world of electronics.”
She waved off his apology. “You’ve been here for two hours. I know you’re busy. I should give Camilla a hand anyway. If today is anything like the rest of the week, she’ll need the help.”
Jonas laid a scorching kiss on her and left. Dazed and more than a little hot and bothered, she lost herself in cupcakes until the day got away from her. As planned, she and Jonas went to dinner at her parents’ house that night. Given that he shot her smoking-hot glances when he thought no one was watching, and her sisters were nothing if not eagle-eyed when it came to potential gossip, she didn’t think they had anything to worry about when it came to revelations about the nature of their marriage.
Or rather, the revelations weren’t going to be publicized to the rest of the world. Just to Jonas. As soon as she figured out when she could start clueing him in to the idea that friendship wasn’t the only thing happening between them, of course. This was the problem with playing it cool. She wasn’t sure when to bring up concepts like love, forever and no divorce.
She bided her time and didn’t utter a peep when Jonas carried her to his bed after the successful dinner with her parents. He spent extra time pleasuring her, claiming that tomorrow was Saturday so she had plenty of opportunity to sleep later. Not that she was complaining about his attention. Or anything else, for that matter. Her life was almost perfect.
On Monday, she learned exactly how many people in the business world jumped when her husband said jump. By nine o’clock, she had appointments lined up every day for the entire week with accounting people, retail space experts and a pastry chef who had ties with the Food Network. A marketing consultant arrived shortly thereafter and introduced herself as Franca, then parked herself in Viv’s office, apparently now a permanent part of her staff, as she’d informed Mrs. Kim, courtesy of Mr. Kim.
Franca lived to talk, as best Viv could work out between marathon strategy sessions that filled nearly every waking hour of the day. And some of the hours Viv would have normally said were for sleeping. At midnight, Franca sent a detailed list of the short-term and long-term goals that they’d discussed and asked Viv to vet it thoroughly because once she approved, the list would form the basis of Cupcaked’s new five-year plan. Which would apparently be carved in stone.
By Friday, Viv hadn’t spent more than five minutes with Jonas. They slept in the same bed, but sometimes he climbed into it well after she had, which was quite a feat since she hadn’t hit the sheets until 1:00 a.m. most nights. He’d claimed her busyness came at a great time for him because he was able to focus on the merger with Park Industries without feeling guilty for ignoring her. The hours bled into days and she’d never been so exhausted in her life.
It sucked. Except for the part where sometimes Jonas texted her funny memes about ships passing in the night or had a dozen tulips delivered to the shop to commemorate their one-month anniversary. Once he popped up with Chinese takeout for dinner as a “forced” break for them both. He gave her his fortune cookie and told her a story about how one of the ladies in his procurement department had gone into labor during a meeting. Those stolen moments meant the world to her because she could almost believe that he missed her as much as she missed him.
The pièce de résistance came when the pastry chef she’d met with a couple of weeks ago contacted her via Franca to let her know that he’d loved her cupcakes and gotten her a spot on one of the cupcake shows on the Food Network. Agape, Viv stared at Franca as the tireless woman reeled off the travel plans she’d made for Viv to fly to Los Angeles.
“I can’t go to Los Angeles,” Viv insisted with a head shake. “I have a business to run.”
Franca tapped her phone on Viv’s new desk. “Which will become nationally known once you appear on the show.”
She’d had Viv’s office completely redone and expanded at Jonas’s expense and the top-of-the-line computer that had replaced the old one now recessed underneath the surface of the desk with the click of a button. It was very slick and gave them a lot more working space, which Franca used frequently, as she spread brochures and promo items galore across the top of it at least twice a week.
“How long would I be gone?” Viv asked. Josie and Camilla had never run the bakery by themselves for a whole day, let alone several. They needed her. Or did they? She was often in the back strategizing with Franca anyway. They had four or five irons in the fire at any given time and the woman was indefatigable when it came to details. There was literally nothing she couldn’t organize or plan and often took on more of a personal assistant role for Viv.
“Depends on whether you make the first cut.” Franca shrugged and flipped her ponytail behind her back, a move she made when she was about to get serious. “It’s a competition. You lose the first round, you come home. You win, you stay. I would advise you to win.”
Viv made a face. “You’re talking days.”
“Sure. I hope so anyway. We’re going to launch the new website with online ordering at the same time. It’ll be an amazing kick start to the virtual storefront.”
Sagging a little, Viv gave herself about four seconds to pretend she was going to refuse when in reality, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity. It really didn’t matter if she won or not because it was free advertising and all it would cost her was some time away from Jonas. Whom she rarely saw awake anyway.
“When do I leave?”
Franca grinned like she’d known the direction Viv would end up going the whole time. “I’ll get the rest of the arrangements settled and let you know.”
With a nod, Viv texted the news to Jonas, who instantly responded with at least four exclamation marks and a congrats in all caps. Funny, they were basically back to being friends with no benefits, thanks to her stupid career. She had all the success she’d lied to Jonas about wanting and none of the happiness that she’d pretended would come along with it.
Worse,
if she hadn’t been so busy, she’d be sitting around the condo by herself as Jonas worked his own fingers to the bone. This was really, really not the marriage she’d signed up for.
Or rather it was absolutely the one she’d agreed to but not the one she wanted.
The day before she was supposed to fly to Los Angeles for the taping, Viv came home early to pack. Shockingly, Jonas was sitting on the couch still decked out in his gorgeous suit but on the phone, as he nearly always was anytime she’d been in the same room with him lately.
For half a second, she watched him, soaking in his pretty mouth as it formed words. Shuddered as she recalled what that mouth could do to her when he put his mind to it. God, she missed him. In the short amount of time they’d been married, they’d gone from zero to sixty to zero again. She’d prefer a hundred and twenty.
She waved, loath to interrupt him, but before she could skirt past him to her bedroom, where her clothes still were since she’d never really “moved in” to Jonas’s room, he snagged her by the hips and settled her on the couch near him as he wrapped up his phone call.
Tossing his phone on the glass-and-steel conglomeration that he called a coffee table, he contemplated her with the sort of attention she hadn’t experienced in a long while. It was delicious.
“You’re going to LA in the morning?” he said by way of greeting, and picked up her hand to hold it in his, brushing his thumb across her knuckles.
“Yeah. I don’t know for how long. Franca left the plane ticket open-ended.” The little strokes of his thumb stirred something inside that had been dormant for a million years. He’d been so distant lately. Dare she hope that they might be coming back together?
No reason she had to let him be the instigator. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it, but he pulled away and sat back on the couch. “That sounds like fun. I hope you have a good time.”
Cautiously, she eyed him. Why had he caught her before she left the room if he hadn’t been after spending time with her? “Is everything okay? I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
“I...came home on purpose. To see you,” he admitted. “Before you left.”
Her heart did a funny a little dance. But then why all the weird hot and cold? He obviously cared about her—but how much? Enough? She had no idea because they never talked about what was really going on here.
It was high time they had it out. She was leaving for LA in the morning and they rarely saw each other. She had to make this small opportunity work.
“I’m glad. I missed you.” There. It was out in the open.
But he just smiled without a hint of anything. “I miss hanging out with you, too. We haven’t had coffee in ages.”
Or sex. The distinction between the two was legion and she didn’t think for a minute that he’d misspoken or forgotten that they’d been intimate. It was a deliberate choice of words. “We haven’t had a coffee relationship in ages.”
His expression didn’t change. “I know. It’s been crazy. We’re both so busy.”
“By design, feels like.”
That got a reaction, but why, she couldn’t fathom. She watched as unease filtered through his gaze and he shifted positions on the couch, casually folding one leg over the other but also moving away from her. “We’re both workaholics, that’s for sure.”
“I’m not,” she corrected. “Not normally. But I’ve been dropped into an alternate reality where Franca drives me fourteen hours a day to reach these lofty goals that don’t represent what I really want out of life.”
Jonas frowned, his gaze sweeping over her in assessment. “You’re finally getting your career off the ground. She’s been keeping me apprised and I’ve been pleased with the direction she’s taking you. But if you’re not, we should discuss it. I can hire a different marketing expert, one that’s more in line—”
“It’s not the direction of the marketing,” she broke in before he called in yet another career savant who would be brilliant at taking her away from her husband. “It’s that I was happier when Cupcaked was a little bakery on Jones Street and we had sex in the foyer.”
Something flitted through his gaze that she wished felt more like an invitation. Because she would have stripped down right here, right now if that had gotten the reaction she’d hoped for. Instead, his expression had a huge heaping dose of caution. “We agreed that we’d take that part as it came. No pressure. You’re focusing on your career, just like I am. If Franca’s not guiding you toward the right next level, then what do you want her to do?”
“I want her to go away!” Viv burst out. “She’s exhausting and so chipper and can do more from 10:00 p.m. to midnight than a general, two single moms and the president combined. I want to have dinner with you, and lie in bed on a Saturday morning and watch cartoons with my head on your shoulder. I want you to rip my dress at the seams because you’re so eager to get me naked. Most of all, I don’t want to think about cupcakes.”
But he was shaking his head. “That’s not me. I’m not the kind of guy who rips a woman’s dress off.”
“But you are. You did,” she argued inanely because what a stupid thing to say. He was totally that man and she loved it when he was like that. “I don’t understand why we were so hot and heavy and then you backed off.”
There came another shadow through his gaze that darkened his whole demeanor. “Because we’re friends and I’m nothing if not interested in preserving that relationship.”
“I am, too,” she shot back a little desperately. This conversation was sliding away from her at an alarming pace, turning into something it shouldn’t be, and she wasn’t sure how that had happened. Or how to fix it. “But I’m also not happy just being friends. I love the text messages and I’m thrilled with what you’ve done for my business. But it’s not enough.”
“What are you saying?” he asked cautiously, his expression blank.
“That I want a real marriage. A family. I want more than just cupcakes.”
* * *
Jonas let the phrase soak through him. Everything inside shifted, rolling over. In six words, Viv had reshaped the entire dynamic between them, and the effects might be more destructive than a nuclear bomb.
His chest certainly felt like one had gone off inside. While he’d been fighting to keep from treating Viv to a repeat of the dress-ripping incident, she’d been quietly planning to cut him off at the knees. Apparently he’d been creating distance for no reason.
Viv’s gorgeous face froze when he didn’t immediately respond. But what was he supposed to say?
Oh, that’s right. What the hell?
“Viv, I’ve known you for over a year. We’ve been married for almost five weeks. For pretty much the entire length of our acquaintance, you’ve told me how important your career is to you. I have never once heard you mention that you wanted a family. Can you possibly expand on that statement?”
The weird vibe went even more haywire and he had the impression she regretted what she’d said. Then, she dropped her head into her hands, covering her eyes for a long beat. The longer she hid from him, the more alarmed he got. What was she afraid he’d see?
“Not much to expand on,” she mumbled to her palms. “I like cupcakes, but I want a husband and a family, too.”
Which was pretty much what she’d just said, only rephrased in such a way as to still not make any sense. “Let me ask this a different way. Why have you never told me this? I thought we were friends.”
Yeah, that was a little bitterness fighting to get free.
How well did he really know the woman he’d married if this was just now coming out after all this time? After all the intimacies that they’d shared?
The lick of temper uncurling inside was completely foreign. He’d asked her to marry him strictly because he’d been sure—positive even—that she wasn’t the slightest bi
t interested in having a long-term relationship.
Otherwise, he never would have asked her to do this favor. Never would have let himself start to care more than he should have.
His anger fizzled. He could have been more forthcoming with his own truths but hadn’t for reasons that he didn’t feel that self-righteous about all at once.
“I never told you because it...never came up.” Guilt flickered in her tone and when she lifted her face from her hands, it was there in her expression, too. “I’m only telling you now because you asked.”
Actually, he hadn’t. He’d been sorting through her comments about the marketing consultant he’d hired, desperately trying to figure out if Viv and Franca just didn’t get along or if the references he’d received regarding the consultant’s brilliance had been embellished. Instead, she’d dropped a whole different issue in his lap. One that was knifing through his chest like a dull machete.
Viv wanted a real husband. A family. This fake marriage was in her way. Jonas was in her way. It was shattering. Far more than he would have said.
He didn’t want to lose her. But neither could he keep her, not at the expense of giving her what she really wanted. Obviously he should have given more weight to the conversation they’d had at his parents’ house about love being a good basis for marriage. Clearly that was what she wanted from a husband.
And he couldn’t give her that, nor was she asking him to. He’d made a promise that he’d never let a woman have enough sway to affect his emotions. Judging by the swirl of confusion beneath his breastbone, it was already too late for that.
If she just hadn’t said anything. He could have kept pretending that the solution to all his problems was to keep her busy until he figured out how to make all his inappropriate feelings go away.
But this...he couldn’t ignore what he knew was the right thing to do.