The Ingredients of You and Me

by Nina Bocci

  He blew out a long breath. “Rebounds are second choices. That’s never, ever been you,” he whispered, and placed one more kiss behind my ear. His hand left the knot of my robe, and I so wished when he backed up that he would tug it open.

  But I knew Nick too well to know that he wouldn’t push the issue. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again, but whatever happened, I knew the ball was now in my court.

  I just needed to know if I was going to take the shot or let the clock run out.

  Thanks for tuning in to The Baked Nanas. I’m Mrs. Mancini.” The video ended with their ridiculous, and yet popular, sign-off. “Don’t forget, go get baked with your Nana!”

  I smiled, watching Mancini in her element. She was the one whom I had been the most worried about on-camera, given her predilections for swearing at inappropriate moments and her uncanny ability to go off script with everything, including the recipes. Her favorite measurements were a pinch of this and a shake of that.

  “Cut!” Nick yelled from the corner of the bakery. We had decided to film the last two episodes at the bakery, in the classroom kitchen. It had been a week since the grand opening, and we wanted to get some videos done before the weekend. It was easier now that the equipment was rigged up and we had so much more space than in Mancini’s kitchen.

  “Nick.” Mancini nodded, and instead of pulling him into a hug, she simply breezed by him. A move that everyone, including him, noticed.

  “I deserve that,” he said, and took a seat in front of the smart board we had bought with Cooper’s generous donation.

  “What are you doing here?” Clara asked just as curtly. I was surprised they were sticking to their guns. From what I understood, they rarely got mad at him, and when they did, they’d stay annoyed for less than a day. As soon as the dimples came out, he’d be forgiven.

  “I stopped in because I knew today was key lime pie day. It’s not every day that you can get this. It’s a treat! And, Mancini, you do make the best,” he said in an effort to suck up to her.

  She preened momentarily before dropping the mask back over her face. “We missed you on opening day, you know.”

  We missed you. It wasn’t an accusatory Where were you? or How could you? Having spoken to them, I knew that they felt deeply let down that one of their biggest cheerleaders hadn’t shown up.

  “I’m so sorry. I really am and I’m mad at myself for missing it. I heard it was amazing.”

  “It was,” Clara interrupted. “You would have known that if you were here, like you promised.”

  “I know, and I deserve the cold shoulders. It’s why I came. I was hoping you guys would hear me out.”

  Mancini looked on with sadness. For a moment, I thought she was tearing up, but she turned when he asked to speak. They all loved Nick, that was clear, but Mancini seemed to really go out of her way for him.

  “You guys stay here, I’ll sit out front in case someone comes in,” I offered, nodding when Nick mouthed Thank you.

  “Sweetheart, I think you need to hear this as much as we do,” Mancini insisted, tugging me by the hand to sit beside her. “The bell will ring if someone comes in the door.”

  Once seated, they waited with their hands folded on the tables.

  Nick began,“You have to know how sorry I am. There aren’t enough words to tell you how badly I feel for missing everything. If I could turn back time and make it, I would in a heartbeat.”

  “Nick, what happened? We know you and Jillian broke up, but no one heard from you for days,” Clara said, and her anger was replaced by worry.

  Nick rubbed his hand over his face. “We did break up, but she refused to leave until Monday afternoon, and by then it was too late. Let’s say Jillian decided that the best way to react to our breakup was to throw everything she could at my walls and windows. I needed to make a dent in the wreckage.”

  The ladies gasped, looking scandalized. Mancini and Gigi looked like they wanted to drive to Barreton and kick Jillian’s ass.

  Wait in line, ladies.

  “Most of the fighting is immaterial to this apology. Just know that I am so sorry and I’m at your disposal for whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

  The ladies remained quiet until Mancini pushed her stool back and stood. “You know we love you, Nick.”

  He nodded, looking a bit green. He must have thought this was going to end poorly for him.

  “You really did disappoint us. I’m not sure what’s worse, the hurt or the disappointment, but whichever it is, know that under all of it, we still love you and want to see you happy. You weren’t happy, not really, and I think seeing you that way hurt all of us.”

  “You’re right. I think I wanted to be happy so much that I forced myself to believe that I was,” he said, looking defeated.

  Mancini walked over to him and rested her hands on his shoulders. “Nick, stop beating yourself up over it. We know now that this was out of your control. We’ll get over it.”

  “I think I am over it already,” Clara said, smiling kindly at Nick. “You did something stupid. We don’t give up on people for doing that. We wouldn’t have anyone left if it was a one-strike system.”

  Viola nodded. “I think the main takeaway is that you should always listen to us and no one else. We’re clearly the wisest.”

  Nick laughed. “You certainly are.”

  One by one they gave him a hug. While I didn’t know if this would be the end of Nick’s apologies to each of them, I knew it was at least a start in the right direction.

  “I’ll still be coming by later to shovel, Clara,” he said, earning another smile, this one accompanied by a squeeze of Nick’s cheek with her bony fingers.

  “Parker, we’ll man the front of the house while you work on the video edits and chat with Nicky,” Gigi said, and took off through the door into the bakery.

  “Oh, no, that’s not necessary. I’m sure he’s busy, and I can do the editing later.”

  Mancini put her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to stay in the seat. “We just told Nick to listen to us—you should totally do the same. We are wise.”

  There was no sense in arguing. If they wanted us to talk, we would have to talk. When they left the classroom, they made sure to close the door on the way out.

  “Hey,” he said, and began twirling the mic cord between his fingers. “That was a good video, huh? Everything is going to be okay?”

  I nodded, not entirely sure what he was referring to—the video or us. “Yeah, it’s definitely going better and growing faster than we thought. I mean, we figured people would think they’re funny, but most of the comments are legitimate questions about the recipes and how to manage when you can’t read your own great-whoever’s recipes.”

  “Have you thought about airing The Baked Nanas videos in the bakery?” Nick asked, and immediately tried to backtrack. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I know you know what you’re doing here with the no cell phone policy, and everyone chilling out.”

  “No, no, what are you thinking? New videos or old ones?” I asked, pulling up the note app on my iPhone.

  “I think both. Maybe you can even have a suggestion box or something. It would help everyone, including the Nanas. Live comments from the peanut gallery, I guess you could call it. There’s a way for people to ask for stuff on YouTube but not in person. I think that may go a long way,” he explained.

  “Also a great idea. I’m not totally sold on a television here except for airing the videos. I’m thinking we can have them air in the hallways of the building as well. Maybe a slide show or something of the businesses, and then still shots of the loft apartments upstairs.”

  “Yeah, Charlotte could have something, and the restaurant.”

  “You’re on a roll. Have anything else?” I asked, watching his face light up at the thought of giving more suggestions.

  “A couple,” he said with a smile. “Can I play with your site?”

  I nodded. “What are you thinking?”

  He
rubbed his neck. “I know you want the focus to be the Nanas, but I think people need to fully understand what you’re doing here and how you’re behind it.” I gave him a face. He chuckled. “I know, I know—it’s not about me, it’s about them—and that’s wonderful and noble and I love it, but I think pushing the fact that you’re behind this will only elevate it. I know you’re not hiding it, but you’re also not full-blown making an announcement with skywriting or anything.”

  “I see what you’re saying. I can do that, I think,” I said, and he looked forlorn. “I mean, unless you really want to go nuts. The less I have to worry about the better. My mind has been going in a hundred different directions from everything coming up between the bakery and the videos. If I had one less thing to worry about, Nick, that would be super helpful. Thanks.”

  Grateful, I reached up and kissed him on the cheek. We hadn’t discussed the kiss from the other night, and this felt like we were heading down that path again.

  As if reading my mind, Nick stepped forward and whispered, “Parker.”

  The word was simple, full of longing, and I didn’t know how to respond. This was public, something we weren’t used to. We’d avoided the scrutiny and the gossip before.

  I glanced up at his darkening eyes and smiled. “Nick.” He took a tentative step closer and repeated my name with more longing, more need.

  Closing the short distance, I stood in front of him and pulled his hands so I held them in mine.

  “Nick, I’d like you to kiss me now,” I said simply. If he needed an invitation, there it was.

  He smiled, dimples and all, and leaned in to firmly capture my lips.

  At the same time the front door chimed.

  “Oh, sorry!” Emma said, covering her eyes with one hand and her belly with the other. “Baby and I didn’t see anything we weren’t supposed to, but if we did, we’d be asking what the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is going on here and why didn’t we know about it?”

  We separated, knowing that we’d been busted.

  Turning to her, I smiled. “Hey, Ems. What’s up? How are you feeling? Want a snack?” I rambled it all quickly, but it did nothing to thwart her curiosity.

  She looked between Nick and me repeatedly before calling for Mancini to join us.

  “I’ve been summoned,” she said, coming into the studio from the bakery, and it reminded me of the first day that I met her. She appeared out of nowhere.

  “Emma, looks like you interrupted something back here?” Mancini asked, searching for some gossip. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I daresay that I don’t know. Tell me, Mancini. What did I walk in on?” she answered, smiling when she looked at Nick’s reddening face.

  “Nothing,” I said flatly. “I gave Nick a kiss on the cheek and Emma is interpreting it as something more.”

  Mancini’s eyes widened, and her mouth made a perfect O. “I see. Well, I must say if there was something going on here, I would certainly approve of and encourage it.”

  “You’re both nuts. We’re friends, right, Nick?” I said, bumping him in the arm with my hand.

  Nick was looking down, much as he had that night at my house when he came to apologize.

  I swallowed, thinking that this was going to backfire, but if I was going to get into a better place with Nick, I needed to square up with our friends. Come clean.

  “Although, he’s single now and I’m single, so, who knows?” As soon as I said it, both Emma and Mancini smiled widely and were suddenly giddy like teenagers sharing secrets.

  Nick didn’t say anything, but I could see the hint of a smile.

  * * *

  A week later, after I finished going over the schedule for the bakery and the upcoming YouTube shows for the ladies, I sat in the bakery kitchen staring at the recipes that I was toying with.

  Things were finally up to the old D&V standards, but I felt I had more to give. What, I didn’t know, but it was a lingering feeling.

  The recipes were laid out in the style that my old D&V menu was: simply stated on plain crisp-white cardstock with black typeset lettering. One side featured pricing for single servings of cupcakes, pies, cakes, cheesecake, brownies, and cookies, and the other side listed the same items but in whole sizes. The longer I stared at the menu, the more I wished I could just create something more, for lack of a better word.

  Charlotte thought that was my problem. That I spent all this time trying to re-create something that was over and done with. I shook my head. Sometimes simple was best.

  At midnight, I made another pot of coffee and started in on a new poster board. The recipe order was rearranged, and I had two new ideas planted on it: bananas Foster and pumpkin caramel cupcakes. Neither was reinventing the wheel, but both were delicious. Mancini’s secret ingredient for the caramel, pink Himalayan sea salt, was brilliant, and I was eager for everyone to try it.

  “Another win,” I said, and began putting together and mixing up the ingredients for the cupcakes I was experimenting with.

  When I woke the next morning, I was still sitting at the counter and had a strip of caramel down my cheek.

  I made breakfast, packed up the cupcakes, and after the world’s quickest shower, I requested Uber to come pick me up.

  “Oh, you’re kidding. I’m so late already,” I whined into the air. According to the app, the Uber driver was out of commission thanks to a nasty head cold.

  I paced the kitchen, holding my phone tightly. I could call it off, ring Mancini and have her fill in for me. It was my morning to open, but I had no way of getting there. Unless…

  Shooting off a quick text, I waited for a response. He texted back that he’d be ten minutes. And sure enough, Nick was soon at my doorstep with a cup of coffee and a smile.

  “Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that,” I said, taking the proffered cup. “I just appreciate the ride.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Just a second.” I handed him the coffee and went to get the boxes of cupcakes for the bakery.

  “Okay, all set.” He took a deep inhale when we got into the truck.

  “Those smell unbelievable. What are they?” he asked, hungrily eyeing the boxes on the backseat.

  “Something I was trying out for the shop, and maybe for YouTube, who knows? You had a great suggestion the other day about the comments—finding out what people want? Well, I made up two recipes according to the comments that I received on the D and V blog ages ago. I can’t remember why I never baked these before, but I made them to try out at the bakery today. We’ll see how it goes.”

  “Do I smell banana?” he said, licking his lips. “Parker, tell me there’s banana in there.”

  I smiled. “You’ll have to wait until we open to see.”

  He groaned and playfully slapped the steering wheel. “I’ll buy them all if you’d let me. Hell, I’ll eat them all right now.”

  “I hope you feel that way after you try them,” I said.

  Since I still didn’t trust myself around him, I turned and faced the window, watching the trees whip by on the way to the bakery. We didn’t discuss the kiss. Or kissing again. Or what would happen if and when we did kiss again, because I think we both knew damn well what would.

  I was torn between wanting to move that along and savoring this little dance we had. Nick and I had jumped into the first relationship after a hot minute. Why was I in such a rush to repeat that?

  A little over a month after the opening, I was enjoying a burst of creativity and inspiration on my end, and the bakery had a steady stream of customers. I had hoped that once the good spring weather broke, we’d see a real uptick in the shop and the classes.

  “Parker, anything to tell us?” Charlotte asked, taking a sip of her tea.

  Emma and Charlotte had met me at the 81 to grab some lunch while Mancini and Viola relieved me at the bakery. “Oh, yes. The business is booming. Emma, I have to thank you for the coverage in the paper. Really well done. It’s brought in a ton of people.”
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  “That’s not what we meant, and you know it. What’s going on with you and Nick?” Emma asked, dipping another french fry into the ketchup.

  I rolled my eyes. “You guys, I told you nothing is going on. We’re friends.”

  “Yes, but do you find him attractive?” Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “Like, horizontally attractive.”

  “Where’s your creativity, Charlotte? I could find him vertically attractive too.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my cheeks flared with heat. “You guys, I’m not kidding. There’s nothing going on now with Nick. He just got out of a relationship.”

  Emma’s hand that clutched her hamburger hovered right in front of her mouth. “What did you say?”

  I repeated the sentence. “Nothing is going on with Nick.”

  “Now. Charlotte, did you hear that slip? Now. Nothing is going on… but adding the now makes me think—”

  “—that something was going on before. Oh my God! When were you sleeping with Nick?” Charlotte shouted. Literally shouted in the 81 so that the entire restaurant turned to look at us.

  I slid down, trying to escape under the table, but Emma put her foot there to stop me. “You get up here right now and explain yourself, Parker Adams.”

  “This is why this town has no secrets. You guys put shit on blast in the middle of the diner and expect it to stay locked down. My God, you’re all nuts!”

  No matter how much deflection I threw at them this time, it didn’t work. They were sharks in the water, and I was the chum.

  I sighed. “What was the question?” I asked, stalling.

  “Did you, or did you not, have relations with Nicholas Arthur?” Emma asked.

  “This doesn’t leave this table,” I insisted, pointing a finger at the two of them.

  When they said yes, I nodded. It was an honest, affirmative answer. It wasn’t specific, and it didn’t explain when or how many times, even though I had a feeling those questions were next.

  “Charlotte, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Emma said, poking her with her butter knife.