had to see him yet, haven’t had to look into the same eyes that locked with mine while he made love to me and wonder what the hell we’re going to do now.
Apparently, if this text is any sign, we’re going to pretend nothing happened and move along with the wedding plans.
Nothing like helping the boss who just had his mouth on every inch of your body pick out some wedding cake.
Yes. See you there.
I guess my boss booty-called me last night.
I shouldn’t be surprised, though, should I?
He’s been stringing me along like lights on a Christmas tree since our first kiss. His hot one minute, cold the next attitude is giving me whiplash.
It’s not that I expected an undying declaration of love, but I would think that last night might mean something. Perhaps give him some pause about marrying someone else next week.
I guess I was wrong.
Again.
I grab my bag from my desk, stalk over to the elevator, and jab the down button a little too forcefully. If I don’t get a handle on my frustration before I go into that bakery, it’s going to make things even more uncomfortable. Poor Anne Marie thought she was winning the lottery by being selected to handle the cake for such a high-profile wedding.
The poor woman has no idea what a shit-show this all is.
The fresh, cold air on the short two-block walk to the bakery does me some good. There’s a lot to be said for a few good deep, cleansing breaths, and I almost feel like I’m in control by the time I open the door and the smell of sugar and spices hit my nose.
A little moan slips out.
It smells like heaven in here.
I scan the small space and scowl. Archie sits perched atop a black iron cafe chair, his large form nearly concealed by the confections stacked up before him.
He rises and offers me a typical Warren smile. “Blaire, you made it.”
Don’t be fooled by that sparkle in his eye, Blaire. It’s a lie.
He’s excited his wedding planner with perks is here.
A short blonde with a contagious smile rises from the chair across from him and extends her hand. “Hello. I’m Anne Marie. You must be Blaire.”
We shake while Archie pulls out the chair beside him for me.
“Blaire Hall. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”
Anne Marie waves a hand toward the table. “Let’s start, shall we? I’ve made samples of all the flavors you’ve requested, Blaire. Which do you want to start with?”
I survey the parchment-lined silver tray. Beautifully decorated tiny cakes lay before me, with their names written out on cards in front of each one.
Immediately, I find my favorite. My dream winter wedding cake straight from my notebook brought to life—just like I requested when I spoke with Anne Marie the other day. I can almost forget Archie and his insulting treatment, knowing I’m about to have this cake. “Anne Marie, is this it?”
She smiles as I gently grab the cake and pull it toward me.
“It is, and it is actually my favorite. Honestly, I would have never thought of this combination, but it makes so much sense together.” She slices off a piece of the cake and sets it on my dessert plate.
Gingerbread and eggnog creme.
It smells like the holidays and every good memory that I have ever had, including every daydream of my future wedding plans. This concoction has been in my mind and my notebook for years. And she managed to pull it off.
Archie leans in to check out the cake. “That sounds good, actually. Smells even better.”
I cast him a side-eye. I don’t care what he thinks. He can serve himself. I pick up my fork and slice off a bite.
This cake is for me. A totally selfish indulgence.
And after the way he has been treating me, I’ve earned it.
I lift my dream cake to my lips, and the spicy confection hits my taste buds. A deep moan floats out around my fork.
Archie coughs and clears his throat, shifting in his seat and looking more flustered than I’ve ever seen him. “That must be some good cake.”
He releases an awkward chuckle and watches me, like he’s trying to decide how he should be handling the situation.
I continue to ignore him, because — cake.
If he can pretend things are fine, so can I.
Anne Marie places a piece in front of him. “Here, Mister Warren. Try it. I think your bride-to-be is sold. You two make a lovely couple, by the way. I’ve been