Will hadn’t told her. Probably hadn’t realized, but his dark-wash jeans and black button-down must have been a lucky accident. She looked down. The clash of her bright coral top against the sea of red stood out like a lighthouse in a storm. Already she felt out of place, the hired help crashing the party, and now this.
Will hadn’t noticed her discomfort. The blonde—who Charlotte now realized was an old friend from college—was still chatting him up. Another girl knelt on the floor by the loveseat and joined the conversation.
She shifted on the loveseat, wishing the small talk was over. Wishing she could snag a piece of cookie cake and disappear somewhere with Will. Wishing she wasn’t so out of practice at these kind of events. She was used to being in the background, serving, not front and center, dating the popular guy.
A crowd was beginning to form around Will.
The flashback started, grainy around the edges, then gaining clarity. Zoe’s father, football helmet tucked under his arm. Laughing with the college cheerleaders while she stood awkwardly behind him. Zoe’s father, with his password-protected cell phone and constant texting.
No. She shook herself free of it.
A tall, dark-haired girl wearing a red and black long-sleeved shirt plopped down on the ottoman that had been pulled up next to the couch. She smiled at Charlotte.
Charlotte’s hopes lifted. Maybe she could find an ally in this sea of strangers.
“Hi. I’m Charlotte.”
“Nice to meet you. Mia.” They shook hands.
Mia sipped from her cup of red punch. “So . . . are you a friend of the bride or groom?”
Charlotte gestured to Will, still talking beside her. Warmth radiated from his arm pressed against hers. “I’m with the best man.”
It felt good to say—maybe a little too good. One of those dangerous good feelings, the kind that nudged the subconscious and shouted Warning, warning, you’re putting too much into this! But she ignored it. She wanted to belong, and right now, her claim to Will was the only thing keeping her anchored in the room.
“Will Martin?” Mia brightened. “I haven’t seen him since college! Where’s he been?”
“I—I don’t know, really. He did some time in the army.” She didn’t really want to disclose how little she knew of Will’s past. “He’s a personal trainer now.”
“I’ll say.” Mia winked over the rim of her punch cup. “Sign me up for that workout regimen.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to reply, but Mia didn’t give her a chance. She leaned in closer over the arm of the loveseat, lowering her voice. “So how’d you do it?”
Charlotte blinked. “Do what?”
“You know. Catch Free Willy.” She gestured with her cup.
“Free—who?”
“Free Willy.” Mia rolled her eyes. “We dubbed him that in college. He was the permanent bachelor type, you know. Never going to get married?”
Charlotte’s tense shoulders relaxed. That made sense, after the comments Will had made recently about not getting out much and how this wedding was the first big social thing he’d done in forever. “That much of a hermit even then, huh?”
Mia almost sprayed her punch. She choked, laughing and pounding herself on the chest. “Will Martin? A hermit? Oh, that’s a good one.”
Okay, now that didn’t make sense. A sinking sensation filled Charlotte’s stomach—like being trapped in a roller-coaster car perched high at the very top, about to speed down the hill, with no way out.
Mia must have caught her confusion, because she calmed down and set her cup on the end table. “How long have you known Will?”
“A few months.” Charlotte didn’t bother to clarify that their first date had only been about a week ago.
“Ah.” Mia’s know-it-all smile held two parts pity and one part condescension. “Well, let’s just say he didn’t earn his nickname for lack of female options.”
And the roller coaster roared down the hill.
Charlotte had often been accused of baking with her emotions. And right now, The Dough Knot’s counters were littered with bottles of cayenne pepper, Louisiana hot sauce, and candied red hots.
She’d suffered through the end of the couple’s shower last night, forcing smiles and participating in just enough conversation with Will to avoid causing a scene. It wasn’t difficult, distracted as he was by most of the female party guests. To his credit, Will had made several attempts to draw Charlotte into the conversations, but after Mia’s nearly endless accounting of the ghosts of girlfriends past, her heart wasn’t in it.
Charlotte had always thought Zoe’s father had been the consummate life-of-the-party frat boy. But apparently Will could have taught him a thing or two.
She sprinkled a liberal helping of cayenne pepper into her batter for chocolate chili cupcakes. The bakery was closed this Sunday afternoon. Zoe was in the front of the shop with the doors locked, coloring and whistling off-key while Charlotte took her aggression out in new recipes. Baking cleared her mind, gave her perspective, an outlet.
She glanced at the far counter holding two pans of Mexican hot chocolate brownies and a dozen spiced cookies.
So far, it wasn’t working.
Her cell phone buzzed in her apron pocket. She pulled it out, saw Will’s number, and dropped it back in. He tried twice more, and she forced herself to keep stirring. As much as she wanted to give him the opportunity to explain his way out of this, she knew what she’d seen. What she’d heard. What her instincts shouted.
She couldn’t trust him. Zoe’s dad had thrown excuse after excuse at her in the past, and she’d believed him time and time again. She’d been down this painful road before, and she couldn’t allow herself—or Zoe—the chance to get more attached to Will than they already were. It wasn’t fair.
She swallowed hard. None of it was fair. She’d tried to explain that to him last night when he’d dropped her off after the party, but he didn’t get it. How could he? He hadn’t walked in her shoes. He didn’t feel the pang of old scars. He didn’t bear the weight of regret and shame that she carried daily.
He didn’t have a five-year-old looking to him for protection and guidance.
He’d lied to her, just like Zoe’s dad. Presented himself to be one way, but proved the opposite once he got in social settings. Words were cheap—actions were expensive.
Her phone continued to buzz unanswered. Then the wall phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. Not Will’s number. She frowned. The Dough Knot wasn’t officially open on Sundays—who would call her here? “Hello?”
A female voice. Not Will. “Hi there. Is this Charlotte?”
“Yes, this is Charlotte with The Dough Knot. I’m sorry, we’re not open.” She started to hang up.
“I was hoping to talk.”
Huh?
“This is Melissa. Will’s sister.”
Charlotte sank against the counter. “Hi.”
“I’m glad I caught you!” Melissa’s upbeat voice brought instant ease. Charlotte relaxed slightly. “I called the bakery hoping the answering machine would give me your cell number or something.” She paused. “I didn’t want to ask Will for it because he doesn’t know I’m calling.”
Aha. “He must have told you about last night.”
“He’s frustrated. He doesn’t get it. Thought things were going well with you guys.” Melissa exhaled heavily. “Listen, Charlotte, I don’t usually get involved in these types of things, but Will is my big brother—my only brother—and I thought maybe you should understand something about him.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes and braced herself for the sisterly, biased defense.
“He’s an idiot.”
Charlotte snorted, then laughed.
“I’m serious, girl. He has no idea what he’s doing anymore. He’s been out of the dating game a long time, and with that big ol’ compassionate heart of his, well—he doesn’t know how to turn people away. Sometimes it gives the wrong impression.”
“A long time,
huh?” Charlotte wished she could see Melissa’s eyes right now. But why would his sister lie to her?
“You have no idea. Years. He’s put his life on hold for me, and—it’s gotten ridiculous, to be honest. I’ve told him to get back out there a hundred times, but he never listened.” Melissa hesitated. “Until you came along.”
The admission thawed a piece of Charlotte’s heart she’d tried hard to freeze. She clutched the phone a little tighter.
“That’s why I’m calling. I hate to get in the middle and make this worse, but I had to try. Will is special, and you must be pretty special, too, if you could tug him free of this cycle he’s been trapped in for years.”
Charlotte closed her eyes against the dozens of thoughts vying for attention. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you’ll give him a chance. I don’t know exactly what happened last night, but I know Will would never hurt anyone on purpose. He’s grown up a lot in the last several years—I didn’t really give him a choice in that matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“Will hasn’t told you?”
Her cell phone chirped, this time announcing an incoming text. Will.
Are you ok?
She hesitated, then shouldered the phone and wrote back. Baking.
I’m coming over.
She wanted to see him. But no. She had to protect her heart. Had to process all that Melissa just told her. She bit her lip, then typed back. I’m really busy.
Too late.
She jerked her head up, nearly dropping the phone as Zoe’s voice hollered from the dining room. “Mom! Will’s here!”
No. She closed her eyes. “Melissa, I’m sorry. Will just got here. I need to go.”
“That’s fine.” Melissa’s voice sped up, just like Will’s did when he got in a hurry. “Just hear him out, okay? He’s an idiot, for sure, but he’s a great guy. I can vouch for that.”
Charlotte blew out her breath. “I’ll try.”
“Thanks, Charlotte.”
“Thanks for calling.” She hung up, her heartbeat roaring in her ears.
Charlotte gave Zoe permission to unlock the front door—even though she was pretty sure she’d already done it. As she headed to the front, the bell chimed, confirming her suspicions.
Zoe held up a page from her coloring book of a giant cupcake, decorated in every color of the rainbow. Will exclaimed over it and waited while Zoe tore the page free and handed it to him. He folded it carefully and tucked it in his jeans pocket.
Charlotte waited behind the counter, hands shoved in her apron pockets, fiddling with her phone and wishing she had just answered. It’d be much easier to have this conversation over the phone than in person.
“Hey.” Will made his way behind the counter. “We need to talk.”
“You’re right. In the kitchen.” She led the way, wishing her heart wasn’t so soft. Wishing he didn’t smell so good. The door swung shut behind them, and she took a ragged breath. She didn’t know what to believe. What to risk.
She wanted him to leave.
Wanted him to hug her.
“Are you still mad?” Will crossed his arms over his chest and studied her.
She shrugged, fiddling with a striped oven mitt. “I don’t know what to think.”
“I think you overreacted.”
Her defenses flared. “Are you kidding me?”
He spread his hands wide. “I didn’t do or say anything inappropriate at the party. And yet you were jealous.”
“Jealous?” Hardly. More like just trying to survive and be wise. All of Melissa’s precursors fled away in the light of his accusation. “I highly doubt that.”
“I tried to bring you into the conversations. You checked out.”
“I checked out because everyone there kept telling me all about Free Willy.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “Did you know you’re a legend?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Free Willy. Are you serious? Someone told you that?”
“Yes.” She blinked back tears of aggravation, slapping the oven mitt on the counter. “I already felt left out and out of place because of my stupid shirt and—”
He frowned. “Your shirt?”
She brushed it off. “Forget it. I just meant I didn’t belong, and hearing all about your frat-boy, glory-day stories from those women . . . it was too much.” No wonder he was confused. Even now, it sounded superficial, empty, shallow. Exactly like overreacting.
But in her heart, it was so much more than that. Her defensiveness morphed into frustration. With Zoe’s father, for being such a jerk. With Will, for making her care so much so fast.
With herself.
“You know what I think?”
“Oh please, enlighten me.” She didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm from her tone.
“I think you’re scared.”
She blinked at him, and he came closer, walking toward her until he backed her against the counter.
“I think you’re afraid to trust anyone again, and you’re so used to searching for reasons not to, that you’ve started making them up.”
“What? That’s—that’s crazy.”
“Is it?” He had her pinned against the counter now, one arm braced on either side. “I have a past, one I’m not proud of. That’s a given.”
Don’t we all? a voice inside her head whispered. You’re a fine one to hold a grudge against someone because of their past. Guilt nudged her stomach.
“But do you really believe I’m still Free Willy, Charlotte?”
She refused to look in his eyes, staring instead at the Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. A muscle in his jaw clenched. Was he nervous? Nervous because he was lying?
She risked a quick glance at his face, then away. No, not nervous. Anxious. Because this mattered to him.
She mattered to him.
She closed her eyes. Her head throbbed with all the indecision and uncertainty. “I don’t know.”
“You do know.” His breath warmed her neck as he drew even closer. “Look in my eyes, Charlotte. Eyes don’t lie. What are they telling you?”
She didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to risk it. What about Zoe? What about her own heart? She couldn’t afford to let it break again. Couldn’t afford to be made a fool again.
“Look at my eyes, Charlotte.” He waited, not budging, making her decide.
She swallowed hard. Memories of her time with Will flittered through her mind. Their nonstop laughing at the restaurant. The way his eyes twinkled when he bought snickerdoodles. His warm kisses. Zoe’s smile when he walked into the bakery.
She met his eyes. Saw how they brimmed openly with sincerity. With honesty.
With—love?
This wasn’t Free Willy anymore. This was a man who had been changed and remade and who was taking his own risk by stepping out toward her. And all he asked is that she step out and meet him halfway.
He wasn’t exactly safe. Or entirely predictable. But he’d looked into her eyes and she had seen the truth there. He had nothing to hide—and everything to give.
“I believe you.” The whispered words had barely left her lips before he covered them with his own. He kissed her deeply, erasing any further doubts.
Then he pulled away. “Are you sure? Last chance to change your mind.” He grinned, as if he knew there wasn’t a chance at all.
“I’m sure.” They kissed again, slower this time, until Charlotte’s insides melted like the hot chocolate in her brownie batter.
She turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek against his. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“Everyone heals in their own way, in their own timing.” Will rested his forehead against hers before dropping a kiss against her nose. “Though I have to say, I’m glad it didn’t take you any longer.”
She swatted him with her oven mitt, then pulled him back for another kiss. “I thought I wanted safe.”
“And I’m not?”
She s
moothed the front of his shirt. “Safe is a bow tie. And suspenders.”
Will tilted his head as he considered her. “So, safe to you is an elderly banker?”
“No!” She swatted him again and laughed. “That’s what I always joke with Julie about. Bow tie and suspenders is my metaphor for some safe, predictable nerd. The opposite of a ladies’ man.” She hesitated. “Someone who won’t leave.”
“I get it. But safe can be way overrated.” He gestured around them at the bakery. “You probably see it all the time. You know when married couples cut their cake and feed each other at the reception?”
Charlotte blinked at him. “I have no idea where you’re going with this.”
“Safe is feeding each other wedding cake, nice and polite and without a mess and passing napkins afterward.”
He had a point. It sounded . . . a little boring, to be honest. Picture-perfect. Not entirely real.
He grinned down at her. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone who smears icing on your face—” His finger gently trailed the length of her cheek. “And then gently kisses it off?”
She drew a ragged breath at his proximity. That actually sounded amazing. Maybe she’d had it wrong all this time. Maybe God hadn’t sent her what she wanted because it hadn’t been what she and Zoe needed at all.
“See? Safety is vastly overrated.” He grinned and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Then again, for the record, I could probably rock a bow tie if I had to.”
“But that’s the best part.” She smiled up at him, trusting fully for the first time in a long time—maybe ever. “You don’t have to.”
“That might have been the most awkward toast in the history of toasts.” Will leaned close to whisper in Charlotte’s ear.
She giggled, nudging him with her elbow. “Shh. They’ll hear you.”
They’d suffered through several wedding speeches so far at Adam and Brittany’s rehearsal dinner, each one worse than the last. And he’d kept her laughing through all of them.
“I mean, come on. Pass the butter. That toast was dry.”
Charlotte snorted, and elbowed him harder in the ribs, the sudden motion clanking her used silverware against her discarded plate. The man at the table opposite them shot an amused glance over his shoulder, and Charlotte immediately blushed.
Love Takes the Cake Page 7