“Yeah, I don't think so.” Misty gets out different frosting from the big fridge and starts to lather it on the cake.
Sitting up on the table, I watch her work magic on the cake. She smooths the frosting, adding different shades of blue to create a tie-dye effect. Her hands move fluidly, delicately, with precision I couldn't imagine ever having.
It takes her two hours to fully cover and decorate the cake. But when she steps back, my jaw drops to my chest. The cake is gorgeous.
“Wow,” I say, bending down to look closer. “It's amazing.”
“Thanks,” she says proudly, folding her arms across her chest.
“Why don't you do this?”
“What?” she asks absently.
“Bake cakes. You have a talent, Misty. I mean, look at this.”
“I don't know. Vanessa's always been the baker. Don't get me wrong, I like baking cakes, but it just made more sense to let her bake, and I'd take on the marketing end.”
Taking a step toward her, I cup her elbow. “You should consider taking the position here. It would be perfect. People love you, everyone we've met since we've been here has just fallen in love with you.”
“Nick, come on. New York is my home. I can't just abandon everything to move here.”
“Why not? It could be perfect. I mean, we're supposed to go back in a couple days, and I know neither of us wants to. What if we stay here? Vanessa can run New York, I can help from the sidelines, and you can bake special order cakes at this store.”
“Nick, I—”
“You can still do the marketing stuff if you want, but if we're here, there's nothing keeping us apart.”
Misty goes silent, her eyes searching mine. I don't say anything, I’m just letting the idea simmer in her brain. It's a great idea, she has to see that.
“Nick,” she says, taking a step back. “Look, this is fun, it really is, and I'm enjoying being with you. But it has to end at some point. I'm not a baker, I can't suddenly drop my life and become someone I'm not. We can't live in this fantasy world we built, I'm sorry. Eventually, we have to go back to reality.”
Hanging my head, I rake my fingers through my hair and look away.
She's right. This isn't reality. This isn't who we are. This is us playing roles we can't continue. But I'm not willing to let her go this easily. That's not how I work.
Misty might be willing to leave me here, to pretend like this never happened. To ignore what I know she feels inside.
I can't.
8
Misty
“I don't want you guys to leave yet,” Lewis says, pouting his bottom lip. “You need to stay for the grand opening. You did this, you should be here.”
“Lewis,” I say, drawing out his name as I lean in and hug him. “I wish we could, but there's work for us in New York.”
“I know, but it sucks. It was really nice having people around that know what they're doing for once.” He smiles sadly and kicks his foot against the floor as I break our hug.
“Don't worry,” Nick chimes in as he walks out from the kitchen. “I'm pretty sure we'll be back. This place is too nice to stay away from.”
Nick's eyes steady on mine, and I know instantly what he's thinking. He wants to stay too. He wants to live where we don't have to worry about upsetting others or being judged.
Because it will happen. People will see us, they'll talk, and before we know it, some rumor will evolve into a full-fledged scandal. That's how it goes, especially when you're well known.
Nick's a rich investor, a hot bachelor with no one on his arm. Vanessa is an up and coming queen of the bakery, about to open three more, and I'm just the invisible friend with no status; who wouldn't want a piece of that story?
Besides, Vanessa is my best friend, I won't risk ruining our relationship over some guy. She told me she liked him, and I'm going to respect that.
This was just play time. It's not real anyway.
My smile dips down as I soften my eyes and arch my brows apologetically. I know what Nick wants. He wants me. And I'm lying if I sit here and say I feel nothing for him. Because I do. I feel more than I ever have with anyone else in my life.
It hurts to feel like I have to make a choice between the two of them.
Nick's face stays still, his expression hard as stone, but his eyes, his eyes speak loud and clear. He wants more time together. He wants us to keep playing this game where we can be whomever we want in this little town.
We're tucked away from the world, hidden behind a vale of trees from the city we call home. In this place we're free to be us. Together.
The front door flies open, and a gust of wind sweeps through the bakery, blowing the paper menus off the counter.
“Surprise!”
We all stand still, turning our heads in unison to the voice at the door. Vanessa is standing with a huge smile on her face, with her arms out wide like we're all going to run and embrace her.
“Vanessa?” I say her name like a question, even though I can see she's right there.
“Yeah, don't act so happy to see me,” she says with a giggle as she drops her bag to the floor and starts walking around the room. “I thought I'd come check out the new place. You guys did such a great job of getting it all set before the big day. I just had to see it for myself.”
She spots Lewis and gives him a pleasant smile. “You must be Lewis.” Holding out her hand, she steps forward to introduce herself. “I'm Vanessa, we've talked on the phone, but haven't had the chance to meet yet.”
“So you're the big city baker everyone's been talking about.” He gives her his signature smile and shakes her hand. “Thank you so much for sending these two, they saved the place, they really did.”
“As I knew they would.” Vanessa moves around the bakery, touching everything she can. She picks up the menu and looks at me. “Paper?”
“For now. The original order wasn't going to make it in time, so I had these made and the new, leather bound menus will be here next Friday.”
She nods, accepting my answer. “And the ovens are all set?”
“Yup,” Nick answers, folding his arms across his chest. “Fixed them myself. There was a faulty igniter on the set. Misty tested them out, and they work perfectly now.”
“Misty tested them?” she asks, unsure how I fit into the equation.
“Yeah, you didn't tell me she was quite the baker herself.”
Vanessa looks at me over her shoulder, her lips thin. “I thought you hated baking?”
“I do, but I should practice my skills once in a great while, I guess.”
“Huh,” she says, nodding her head. “Well. . .” Vanessa pauses, running a finger across the edge of the counter and checking it for dust. There's none of course, because I know how she likes her bakery kept, and the expectations she has. “I thought I'd spend the night, maybe do a little sightseeing, meet some of the locals. What do you think, guys? Want to take me around town?”
Nick lets out a gush of air as he smiles. It's a fake smile, I can tell instantly. He doesn't want to spend our last night being a tour guide for Vanessa. He wants to spend it with me.
“Uh, yeah, sure, we can do that,” I answer. Because saying no would draw unwanted attention. Doesn't he realize this?
Vanessa lets out a giddy squeal as she quickly steps to me and pulls me in for hug. “This is going to be so much fun. I can't wait to see the place.”
I look up at Nick, and he isn't even looking at me. He's looking down, disappointment filling his face in the shape of lines across his forehead and a taut mouth.
He sighs heavily and storms off into the kitchen. Our last night together isn't about us anymore. There's a third wheel and it's the one person I never want to hurt.
Lewis takes Vanessa around the bakery, giving her the tour. They sit down at one of the tables and she helps him go through potential candidates for the open baker position.
Nick won't even look at me. I can't tell if he's pissed off or just real
ly upset. He brushes by me, his shoulder swiping mine, and he doesn't even look up. I don't know what he wants from me. I didn't ask for this.
“Hey,” I say softly, trying to get his attention as I split up the menus into piles on the counter. He ignores me. “Hey,” I say a little louder. But still nothing.
He moves past me, shoving the kitchen door open and disappearing inside. Glancing up at Vanessa, she and Lewis are focused on the applications, so I take the opportunity to try to talk to him.
Sneaking into the kitchen, I find Nick leaning over the sink, his fingers gripping the edge of the stainless steel basin so tight his knuckles are white.
“Hey, why are you ignoring me?”
“Why do you think?”
“I don't know. But maybe you can tell me instead of pretending like I'm not even here.”
His head twists in my direction, lids lowering angrily. “Did you do this?”
“Do what, Nick?” Throwing my arm up, I lean my hip against the counter.
“Bring her here? Did you tell her to come?”
Rolling my eyes, I take a step toward him. “No, of course not. Why would I do that?”
“Because it's easier this way. Because with her here you don't need to face how you really feel.”
“What? Why would you even think that? We had an agreement. We both knew what was coming. But no, I didn't bring her here.”
He grunts, his head bobbing as he looks back in the sink. “Whatever. Why should I believe you? You act like you don't feel anything between us, like this is just fun sex and nothing more. You might be able to lie to yourself, Misty, but you can't lie to me. I know you feel something too.”
“Look, this was your idea, and we talked about it.”
“No—” he says, quickly cutting me off. “I didn't—”
The kitchen door swings open, and Vanessa walks in. We both stop talking, and the silence is so heavy I'm sure she can feel it too.
But she keeps moving, not stopping, oblivious to the tension between me and Nick . “Everything looks great, I'm seriously impressed you two. Lewis has nothing but great things to say. You both made this happen. I can't thank you enough.”
My heart aches, I feel like I betrayed my friend. She likes Nick, she told me she likes Nick, and now whatever happened between us here has to end. It's over. Besides, it was just a fling, that's it. It's not a big deal.
Nick is quiet, he's not acting like himself at all. And I'm a nervous mess. I'm trying so hard to pretend like I'm not hiding anything from Vanessa. Like Nick and I haven't fucked every night since we've been here. Like we haven't held hands while out to dinner, or snuggled while watching a movie.
My hands are shaking as I point out the new pictures we're adding to the menu and the chalk board I ordered for the employees to write the weekly specials on.
Nick keeps pacing back and forth, running his hands down his face and over his head. He looks like he wants to say something, but he can't find the words. Every so often he sucks in a large gulp of air, and Vanessa and I look up at him, but he lets it out slowly, and goes back to being silent.
“You all right?” Vanessa asks him as she stands up straight.
“Yeah, I'm fine, I've just had a headache all day. I'm going to go back to the hotel and pack.”
“I packed already, my stuff is ready to go, and in the car,” I say awkwardly, as if Vanessa's questioned our sleeping arrangements.
“Okay.” Vanessa peers at me from the corner of her eyes, her voice more alert, but not sure what she's listening for.
Nick barely looks at either of us as he stalks by. The kitchen doors swing back and forth, and the front door jingles as he leaves.
“What’s going on with him?” she asks, pointing in the direction he went.
“I—”
“Hello?” I hear coming from the front as the bell goes off again. “Is anyone here?”
Poking my head out the door, I see the woman and the small boy from the other day. “Hey you guys. How's the birthday boy?” I ask, making my voice as cheery and upbeat as possible.
This should be a good experience for this woman and her son, and I need to keep it that way.
“He's good,” she answers, looking down at her son and ruffling his hair. “We're super excited to see how the cake came out.”
“I can't wait to show you. Give me on second, I'll go grab it.”
“Who's that?” Vanessa asks, her brows dropping hard. “We're not even open yet, who took a cake order?”
“I know, I know, but they came in, and you know as well as anyone you should never turn down the chance for home grown advertising.”
“True,” she says.
“So. . .” I pause, and step into the walk-in fridge.
Coming back out, I'm holding a giant, three layer, swirly blue cake. The frosting looks like the ocean, full of light and dark blues, with white caps on the ruffled edges. Using fondant, I created a rice crispy whale that's spouting a sugar glaze water stream from the air hole.
“I made this.”
“You made that?” Her jaw hangs open as she comes to my side and examines the cake. “Jesus, Misty, when was the last time you baked? College?”
“No,” I say mockingly, and casually shrug a shoulder. “I've made a few cakes over the years for people. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go make a little boy's day.”
Pushing the door open with my butt, I spin around. “What do you think?” I ask.
The boy gushes, excitedly jumping up and down in place. “Wow! You see that, Mommy? It's awesome!”
“Happy Sixth Birthday, Jameson. Hey, she even spelled your name right.”
“She did! It's so cool!” He's examining the cake, his eyes huge and wide.
“Good, I'm really happy you like it.” I feel good right now, proud to make someone's day. To give to someone who needed it.
“Are you sure I can't give you anything for it. It's really so beautiful, I don't feel right just walking out without giving you at least a little for it.”
“No, I told you I'd make you a cake and that's what I did. Just remember us the next time someone else needs a cake.” Winking, I smirk, and the woman nods and laughs.
“Excuse me,” Jameson asks, looking up at me. “Where's your husband?” he shifts his head around the room, searching for someone.
“Who?” I'm confused for a moment, and I'm sure my face shows it.
He looks back over his shoulder, and then tries to stand on his toes to look behind the counter. “Your husband. Did he see my cake? Did he like it?”
“My husband?”
Arching a brow, the boy grins and rolls his head on his shoulder. “Yeah, the man that was here? He has to be your husband, you look at each other like my mommy and daddy do.”
Nick. . . He's talking about Nick.
“Oh, no, he's not my husband. We're just friends, but he did love your cake.” Folding the box top closed, I hand it over to his mother. “He actually wants me to make him the same one for his next birthday.”
“Ha!” Jameson laughs out loud, and shakes his head. “He's too old for a cake like this. Maybe one a little smaller, but not like this.”
“Yeah, I told him the same thing.”
His mom takes his hand and gives me a very grateful look. “Thank you so much for this, this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for us. The cake is beautiful.”
“It's my pleasure, I mean six is a big year, you're almost old enough to get a job.”
The boy shakes his head and frowns. “I don't think so, I can't even see in the mirror without my stool.”
We all laugh, and the woman thanks me again, and leads him out. Standing back, I let myself enjoy this moment. I'm warm, happy, and tingling all over. But it's not just because of doing something nice for someone.
It's because this boy could see what I feel, he could see what Nick feels, he could see what I'm denying the both of us from having.
I can't do this. I can't preten
d.
I love Nick Torro.
Throwing open the kitchen door, Vanessa stands up straight, a look of surprise on her face.
“I can't do this,” I exclaim, keeping my eyes on hers. “Vanessa, there's something I need to tell you.”
“Go on, then.” Her voice is slightly shaky and unsure. “What's going on?”
“I've fallen for Nick, like really, really fallen for him. I think I love him.” The words come tumbling out, and I can't stop it.
Vanessa stays still, her eyes shifting between mine as the corner of her lip twitches.
“I'm so sorry, Vanessa,” I spit out, taking another step forward. “I know you said you like him, and I tried to—”
She holds up her hand, stopping me from talking. “I'm shocked,” she says sternly, her mouth slack and wrinkles forming across her forehead as her brows bend in. “I'm shocked you think I don't already know.” She starts to smirk, and her demeanor relaxes.
“What?” I ask, unable to grasp what she's telling me.
“Misty,” she says, stepping forward and grabbing both my wrists. “I can see it. I could see it back in New York. I'm surprised you thought I couldn't tell.”
“I just didn't want to hurt you. You said you liked him, and I wanted to respect that.”
“Misty,” she says my name like a mother who's disappointed that their child didn't know better. “You're my best friend, and I hardly know the guy, I would never let a guy ruin our friendship.”
“Really? So you're not mad?”
“No, I'm not mad. I'm happy for you, I'm also wondering why you've never baked me a cake, but we can talk about that later. Go talk to Nick, tell him how you feel. I'll close up here and meet up with you later.”
“Oh, where would I be without you?” I ask, leaning in to hug her tight.
“Single,” she answers with a laugh. “I'm taking credit for this match making business, just so you know.”
Laughing with her, I grab my purse and phone and give her a wave before running out the door. The hotel is only a ten minute walk up the street, so I hit the pavement with heavy steps.
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