by Hotcheri
My eyes filled with tears as Enrique stood up. He was leaving already! We had barely gotten to know each other.
“Can't you stay a little longer?” I asked, my voice wobbling.
“I really wish I could, my dear,” Enrique replied, sounding a little choked up himself. “But I have to go. I promise that this won't be the last you'll hear of me. This is only the beginning.”
My lips trembled as I got to my feet. “Okay,” I whispered, trying not to cry. I didn't want him to leave. I wanted to sit down and talk to him all night long.
Enrique hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around me in a hug. “If your aunt wants me to take a paternity test to prove that you’re mine, I will. Then maybe she’ll let you visit me for a weekend.”
Sniffling, I pulled back, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. At least I wasn’t wearing makeup, that way I wouldn’t scare the guys away with panda eyes. “That would be nice.”
“Your aunt’s done a fabulous job raising you,” Enrique said admiringly. “Although I wish that I had a part in that, I think you’ve turned out perfectly.”
“She has, hasn’t she,” Luke commented quietly from beside me. I reached for his hand and squeezed. He squeezed back.
Enrique nodded, a proud smile lighting up his face. “You’re the most unexpected surprise I’ve ever had in my life. And the best, by far.”
I hugged him again and watched as he shook hands with Luke. We walked him out of the restaurant and watched as he got into a nondescript cab. Would I ever see him again? Stop that, Celsi, of course you will!
My abandonment issues were rising and I made a valiant move to strike them down. I had something else to deal with. Or someone. Namely Luke.
He was still standing next to me, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he nervously gazed at me under his bangs.
I turned on him, my eyes brimming with tears that were filled with happy. If that makes any sense.
“I can’t believe you- and you didn’t tell me- my dad! You found my dad!” I spluttered, unable to form coherent sentences, so thick was the emotion running through me. I had waited to meet my dad for my whole life, and just as I was resigned to the fact that I never would, Luke had to spring this on me.
“Look, CiCi- I have a valid reason for doing this,” he started, sounding like he was getting ready to defend himself. I stared at him, perplexed. Why? Then it came to me. The silly goose thinks I’m mad at him! “I wasn’t trying to cause drama when I went to see your aunt and ask her about your dad. And I just wanted to surprise you by-.”
I almost shook him. “Luke, I’m not mad at you!”
He stopped in mid ramble, his eyes widening in relief. “You’re not?”
“No! I don’t even know how to say thank you because I can’t find any words that- I’m so happy- I don’t even know how to talk anymore!”
A slow smile spread over Luke’s face as his eyes locked with mine. “Hey, you don’t have to say anything, CiCi. You wished on 11.11, remember? I guess wishes can come true.”
Impulsively, I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing so tight I think I heard him grunt.
“Thank you, Luke,” I whispered in his ear, a sob rising out of my throat. Tears slid down my cheeks as I cried with happiness.
He smoothed down my hair, murmuring in my ear. “It’s okay, CiCi, it’s alright. It’s gonna be fine.” He swallowed hard, his voice so low that I almost didn’t catch the next part. “I love you.”
Pause.
I so did not hear that right.
In fact, I was this close to letting it go because I didn’t want to be that annoying person who kept asking ‘what’ and find out that she hadn’t said anything even remotely close to what I thought I heard.
But what if?
Snapping my head back, I looked Luke right in the eye. He had the most serious, most vulnerable look on his face as he looked back at me, his jaw set.
“...What?”
Slipping his hands onto my shoulders, Luke drew me closer till our foreheads were touching. His forehead was burning hot, but I couldn’t think about that right now. The only thing that was going through my mind was ‘did he or did he not?’ I don’t know!
“I said, ‘I love you’.” The corner of his lips twisted up in a lopsided grin. “Do you want me to shout it from the rooftops too, or what?”
Are you pranking me? I was totally flummoxed. Am I being punked?
I shook my head, trying to organize my thoughts. Too much! Too soon!
“Luke. You can’t just say- you shouldn’t just throw that around like that,” I said sternly as I looked up at him. “You have to mean it.”
His grin grew wider and his dimples popped into view as he replied, in a voice that was as sincere as it gets, “I hardly ever say things I don’t mean. And I never play around when it comes to something so serious. What makes you think I don’t mean it?” He kissed me, his lips feather light on mine. “I’m constantly thinking about you. I even dream about you. When you’re sad, I just want to make you happy and when you’re happy, I just want to watch you smile. It’s actually kinda ridiculous, and I hate that I’m being so corny about it, but it’s true. If that’s not love, tell me what is.”
Code 10, man down.
The Astor Penthouse.
“Okay, we are officially ready for cupcake mania, V 2!” Luke announced.
He was wearing a Jessica Rabbit novelty apron, stirring a bowl of strawberry frosting as I mixed my bowl of batter. We’d been working on our cupcakes for almost an hour now, throwing out the first batch we had made because someone (I’m not pointing fingers at anyone but Luke) put salt in the mixture instead of sugar. It was the perfect way to spend an afternoon, just relaxing with my boyfriend.
Sigh. Thinking that gave me tingles every time. My boyfriend.
Ever since the ‘ILY’ incident, we’d been spending as much time together as we could. No stress, no drama, just pure fun. Just yesterday, we’d gone to see Disney on Ice with Faith. And today, not wanting to be home alone (Hope and Faith had gone to Brooklyn’s Children Museum and his dad was at work) Luke had called me up, asking if I wanted to help him bake cupcakes for his neighbors. Unfortunately, not much baking was happening.
I looked up at him, giggling at the dusting of flour on the tip of his nose. “This batch will turn out right if you don’t get the ingredients mixed up again.”
“I predict that by the time we’re done here, we shall go into the cupcake making business.”
Snorting derisively, I said, “That’s only if your cupcakes are edible.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke asked, a mock snarl curling up his top lip, bringing the sexy out.
“It’s supposed to mean can you even cook?” I asked jokingly, sticking out my tongue at him playfully.
He nodded vehemently, making a sad puppy dog expression. “Uh huh!”
I raised my eyebrows in a classic ‘sure you’re right’ look and he pouted. “What?” I snickered.
“I’m so offended right now,” he sulked, putting the icing on the counter and crossing his arms across his chest. “You think I can’t cook?”
“Tell me what you can cook and I’ll take it back,” I suggested playfully.
He started to count off of his fingers. “I can boil a mean egg! If you want microwaved bacon, I make it better than anyone in NYC. Two words- grilled cheese. Need I say more?”
I spluttered with laughter as he talked, his words full of conviction. “Two words- master chef!”
He picked up his icing mix and approached me, the spoon in his hand. “Try my frosting, then tell me it’s not epic.”
“Okay,” I said, watching as he dipped the spoon in the frosting and, a big smile on his face, held it out to me. Just as I was about to scoop some off of the spoon with my finger, Luke daubed a big dollop of frosting onto my nose.
“Luke!”
He chuckled, pleased with himself. “That’s for not believing me when I told you I could c
ook.”
Pursing up my lips, I unobtrusively slid my finger down my mixing spoon and quickly spread it onto Luke’s cheek. “I still don’t,” I giggled.
A hot grin on his face, Luke flicked some more icing at me. The drops landed on my Sponge Bob apron. “I’m challenging you to a food fight,” he exclaimed.
I picked up a baking tin, holding it up in front of my face. “Bring it.”
Luke flicked some batter at me but it hit the baking tin. I hooted with triumph, peeking around my shield. “Woot! Celsi one, Luke-.”
Just as I was about to say ‘zero’, Luke reached around my shield and smeared some frosting on my lips.
That’s what I get for being cocky at the wrong time.
“Hahaha! Right on target. Your move,” Luke said, winking cheekily at me.
“No fair,” I protested. “You can’t just reach over my shield! What if I’d had a gun? I’d have shot you!”
“No making up rules as you go along,” Luke sang, throwing some more batter at me.
I dodged, hearing the mini bullets ping against the baking tin. “It’s my prerogative,” I sang back, reaching for my wooden spoon and scraping off a bit of batter. “Just as it’s my prerogative to coat you with batter!” I was aiming for his cute face, but I missed and the watery mixture got on his plain white t-shirt. Oops. “Sorry!”
A mock growl rose from Luke’s throat as he stared down at his t-shirt, then back at me. “Okay, that’s it, it’s so on!”
I squealed as he started to chase me around the kitchen, my sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor. He cornered me near the counter, pushing me against the wall and pressing his body against me. “I said sorry!”
“That’s not gonna cut it,” Luke grinned evilly, his hands placed on the wall on either side of me. I was blocked in. Luke, you can take me prisoner any time! “You’re gonna have to show me that you’re sorry.”
“How?” I asked, looking up at him innocently.
I gasped as his lips met mine in a searing kiss, seductively dragging my bottom lip between his teeth and pulling back. “I can think of a few ideas,” he whispered, his voice husky.
He kissed me again, his hands leaving the wall to slide down to my hips. I shivered as he licked the frosting off my lips, teasing me with his tongue. As I slowly kissed him back, my hands grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt, pulling him even closer to me. I let out a soft, needy moan as, still kissing me, he lifted me up and sat me on the counter. My arms slipped around his neck as I ran my fingers through his hair, lost in the sensation of his tongue flicking against mine. He groaned into my mouth as I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him towards me. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, sucking on my bottom lip sensuously. He slid his warm tongue into my mouth again, rolling it against mine. His hands slid under my shirt, fingertips grazing my belly and sending heat all around my body.
Bliss.
We were so caught up in our make out session that we didn’t hear the footsteps until it was too late.
“Well, well, well.” We sprang apart, and I stared aghast at Mr. Astor, who was leaning against the stainless steel fridge watching us, an amused smile on his face. “You don’t see scenes like this on Ace of Cakes.”
CHAPTER 28
my way or the highway.
Celsi’s Point of View
Luke was the first one to react. Eyes narrowed distrustfully, he turned to face his dad.
“Aren't you supposed to be at work?” he asked, the chilliness coming from his voice almost tangible. My ears burned with shame as I slipped down from the counter, suddenly wishing I was somewhere else. Mars, maybe. My eyes darted around the kitchen and I cringed. Flour, splats of batter and frosting everywhere. We had made such a mess. And for what? A few minutes of fun, a little bit of pleasure? This isn’t going to end well.
Mr. Astor rolled his eyes sardonically. “I decided to come home early.” A patronizing note in his voice, he added, “Is that a crime?”
Brushing against me as he leaned against the counter (and making me jump slightly, but nobody else needs to know that) Luke glowered at his dad and sullenly muttered, “No.”
“And what a surprise I got.” Mr. Astor grinned friendlily at in our direction, setting his laptop case on a relatively clean part of the kitchen table. “Two teenagers making out in my kitchen- that’s actually pretty tame by your standards, Luke.” The sarcasm in his voice grew as his eyes twinkled. “But by all means, carry on.”
Running a hand through his hair, Luke said, “We were just wrapping – things up.”
His hands were clenched into fists and I could feel him stiffen as his body bumped up against my hip. Obviously, things still weren’t going well between him and his dad. My heart went out to Luke as I stared at his smiling father. Does the man not have feelings, or what?
“Don’t stop on my account,” Mr. Astor said expansively, waving a hand at Luke. “In my day, I got caught doing things like that all the time.” He winked at us. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Heaving a stressed sounding sigh, Luke shook his hair out of his eyes and said, “If you say so.”
He sounded mildly perplexed, like he wasn’t too sure where his dad was going with this. I wasn’t sure, either.
Is he pissed off? It didn’t look that way, due to the big grin on his face. But maybe the grin and gibing banter was just a prelude to his anger.
I bit my lip. I could say what I wanted about Nate, but at least I knew where he stood as far as mood swings were concerned. He went from civil to furious in less than 10 seconds. There was no in-between for him. As for Mr. Astor... It looked like Luke had to use a temper meter if he wanted to figure out where he stood with his dad, mood wise.
Gesturing towards me, Mr. Astor rumbled, “Now where are your manners? You’re not going to introduce me to your friend?”
He grinned charmingly at me as, looking more confused than ever; Luke stared from me to him. Finally, after a short brain lag, (not that I blamed him, Mr. Astor was acting weird) he said, “You know her. Celsi Sawyer. My gala date.”
Recognition lit up Mr. Astor's features as he nodded, rubbing his hands together.
“Ah, yes! Miss Sawyer from East Harlem.” He shot me a (genuine? Tres bizarre) smile. “How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks, Mr. Astor,” I said politely. I didn’t want to be the one to rock the boat. He was being nice for the time being, so I was all for prolonging that as much as possible.
Mr. Astor perched himself onto the nearest barstool. “So... you guys were making cupcakes?” he asked, raising one eyebrow as he looked around the messy kitchen.
I looked at Luke, expecting him to answer, but he was just staring at his dad with a slightly unfocused look on his face. Like he was trying hard to figure out whether the real Mr. Astor's mind had been replaced. Guess it’s up to me to make awkward small talk.
Oh well, could be worse. He could be on that ‘are you sure you’re not a billionaire in disguise living in East Harlem to prove a point’ tip.
“Yes, we were going to give them to your neighbors,” I replied.
“What happened? They have a kid or something?” Mr. Astor asked, chuckling at his own wit.
Luke, help me!
Taking a deep breath, I forged on, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t trip up and give him fodder to go on the attack. I guess all those years living under the same roof as Nate has taught me to be extremely cautious. “No, we just wanted to be neighborly. Luke said he barely knew them so we figured this would be a nice way to reintroduce him.”
Snorting condescendingly, Mr. Astor said, “What a quaint idea.” He picked up a napkin and dabbed at a pool of batter on the table. “Too bad that the majority of the cupcakes didn’t end up in the oven.”
I twisted my hands together, my insides knotting nervously. “I’ll clean up, I promise.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Astor said dismissively. “You just got carried away, is all. I understand. I was
once in love too.”
My forehead creased as I gazed at him, puzzled. What a strange thing for a married man to say.
I was almost positive that I heard Luke mumble, “Yeah, with yourself,” under his breath.
His dad quickly shot him a quick, probing look as I tensed, expecting him to go off, but to my relief, he decided not to comment.
Instead he said, “Luke, do me a favor?”
“What?” Luke asked, eying his dad warily.
“Hope and Faith are still at the museum. Go pick them up, will ya?” Mr. Astor may have said he wanted a favor, but Luke and I both knew it was a straight up demand. “Use my car.”
He tossed his car keys across the room and Luke caught them lazily. “Don’t they already have a ride?”
“Their chauffer wasn’t feeling too well so I let him go home for the day. I don’t want Faith catching anything.”
Massaging his forehead, Luke muttered, “How kind of you,” in the most sarcastic voice ever.
“So be a good boy and go pick up your little sister.”
Luke shrugged, apparently deciding not to argue with his dad, which was good enough for me. It worried me when Luke got worked up. I always pictured that aneurysm, with all that pressure on it...
“Fine.” He turned to me, a resigned look in his deep green eyes. “Let’s go, CiCi,” he said softly, slipping his warm hand into mine.
Mr. Astor cleared his throat as I was picking up my purse from the floor. “Actually, why doesn’t –CiCi- stay here?”
I looked up from brushing flour off of my bag, my eyes widening at his suggestion.
“What? Why?” Luke asked, his arms folded across his chest as he stared at his dad. “I can drop her off home on my way...”
Pointing at me, Mr. Astor said, “She has frosting and cupcake batter all over her! You’d actually let her leave like this?” He let out a bark of laughter. “Obviously somebody isn’t a true romantic.”