CHAPTER 11
***
Eisley
I awaken alone in Beau’s king-sized bed. He insisted I stay with him so he could keep an eye on me. Just in case, he said with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. We both knew it was a ploy, but I didn’t need convincing. I’m all too happy to spend time between the sheets with Beau. I’d like to do a lot more of it for an extended period of time, like say, the next seventy or eighty years.
Soft morning light filters through the break between the window curtains. Contentment washes through me. I feel reborn, a woman with a plan and the love of a good man. I stretch and yawn, taking time to nurse the dull aches leftover from the crash.
I roll over and rest my head beside Beau’s empty pillow, breathing his lingering scent into my lungs. The memories of the past few weeks flood my mind. We share a lot of common ground, yet I wonder if it’s foolish to tiptoe around the elephant in the room. When the city council makes their final decision, one of us will be on the losing side.
My tummy growls, nagging me to get out of bed. I pull on my clothes from yesterday and wander into the kitchen. A homemade croissant and freshly cut strawberries sit atop a small white plate with a handwritten note tucked into the napkin.
The note simply reads, Love Beau.
I clasp the note to my heart as overwhelming joy softens my nagging reservations. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I reach for the pastry. If what Beau and I have is real, we’ll always find a way to solve any problem that comes our way, just like we did with the gender reveal cupcakes and the wedding cake last night.
Oh, crap.
I stuff a bite of pastry into my mouth and quickly gather my shoes and purse. The wedding cakes. Beau and I finished decorating the cake layers last night but have yet to deliver them to the venue. I hop across the living room floor while slipping on my shoes and make a mental list of what needs to be done. Pick up the cakes from Beau. Deliver them to the venue. Set up the tiers. Apologize for my tardiness. Oh, and borrow a car.
I secure the door behind me and hurry down three flights of stairs to the restaurant. I slip in through the side door and head straight to the kitchen, where I find Beau busily pouring batter into cake pans.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” He glances up at me with a smile that could dampen a nun’s panties. “How you feeling this morning?”
“Good. Can I borrow your car?” I hurry past him without breaking stride, straight to the walk-in fridge. I tug on the door and shiver as the brisk cold seeps into my clothes. “The Connor wedding is in an hour, and I’ve got to get the cake to–” I freeze in my tracks and panic as my heart sinks to my gut. “Where are the cakes?”
“It’s all taken care of. I got up early and delivered the cakes myself.” He slaps a towel over his shoulder and loads the oven racks with batter-filled pans.
“And you put the tiers in place and added piped frosting? The lilac and moss green?” I close the fridge. “Were they okay with you delivering it? Did it look okay?”
Beau pulls a phone from his back pocket, taps a few times, and then hands it to me. I scroll through several photos of the five-tiered wedding cake. He’s photographed it from every angle possible, including the tiniest details. My eyes fill with happy, relieved tears.
“Thank you.” I soak in his soft, dark eyes and warm smile. This man melts my heart. “Thank you for everything.”
He places his hands on my shoulders and dips his chin, claiming my lips. The kiss is slow and tender, intentional in the way it lingers between us. I’ve fallen in love with so much more than a handsome, kind man. I’ve fallen for his compassion, dedication, and gentle spirit.
“You’re welcome,” he says when our lips part. “It’s just another perk of having a professional kitchen.”
He winks, and a sudden pang hits me in the gut when he emphasizes the word, professional. Is he still throwing his support behind the proposed licensing changes?
“Or friends with one.” I don’t want to, but it’s time to tackle the white elephant.
***
Beau
“What about the countless people who don’t have access to state-of-the-art kitchens? Eisley’s jaw tightens, and there’s a sudden spark of fire in her eyes. “Where do they go?”
I shake my head, confused by her sudden mood change. She’s defensive, giving me no choice but to wade into tumultuous territory. I remove my hands from her shoulders, aware that this discussion could turn ugly.
“Look, we can agree to disagree here. I’ve listened and see your point, but I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea to continue allowing anyone with a kitchen to serve the public. It takes training and education to learn all the ins and outs of a professional kitchen.” I thread my fingers through my hair. “Do you think it’s fair that I have to jump through regulatory hoops and pin twenty different health code papers to the wall so they”re visible at all times, but you don’t?”
I grab the towel from my shoulder and toss it on the counter in frustration. The tension in the room thickens with each passing second. We’re at odds, but that alone shouldn’t come between us. This issue brought us together, but if we aren’t careful, it could also be what unravels us. So far, we’ve been able to tiptoe around it, though it’s continued to simmer beneath the surface.
“We’re not a bunch of potheads cooking up batches of weed brownies in our kitchens. We’re hardworking people trying to make a living like everyone else.” Eisley’s voice shakes, and she steps back.
Tears threaten at the corners of her eyes and, I’m the asshole who caused them. My pulse courses rapidly through my veins but getting bent out of shape doesn’t move the dial on the conversation.
“You are a hard worker. I know that.” I lower my voice. “This is bigger than you and me. I don’t want to lose you over this.”
“I don’t want that either.” A single tear rolls down her flushed cheek. “I just want to give people a chance to fulfill their dreams. Not everyone can afford formal education or get a loan for a commercial kitchen. Even if I had the money, I don’t have the clientele to warrant it yet.”
We stand, silently staring at each other for countless minutes. Is my desire to do right by the community rooted in selfishness, a way to ensure my business thrives by stifling someone else? Doing the right thing shouldn’t be about taking something away but rather clearing a path for opportunity. Eisley and I have been bogged down in the weeds, trying to change each other’s minds rather than find solutions.
We’re running out of time. The board meets with the public for one last time tonight. They’ll make their final decision in the coming days.
The Bakehouse’s morning crew begins trickling in through the front door. Their murmured voices carry into the kitchen, where Eisley and I are at a standstill with no solution on the table.
“I need to get the staff started on the day’s specials.” I hate to end our discussion on a sour note, but there’s work to be done. “If you can hang around for a bit, I’ll drive you home.”
“I think I’ll walk. Clear my head and think, you know.” She frowns. “Thanks for taking care of the wedding cake for me. I’ll reimburse you for the supplies.”
“I love you, Eisley. I don’t want your money. I want you.” I reach for her, unable to let her go without assurance that we’re still good. I wrap my arms around her, holding her small frame close to mine. “We’ll figure this out.”
She nods into my chest as she grips my shirt. When she looks up at me with glossy eyes, my heart shatters into a million pieces. Unease creeps into my gut, knowing we can’t keep this hanging over our heads.
“Save you a seat at the meeting tonight?” I know she wouldn’t miss the meeting, but I need to know we’re still in each other’s corner.
“Sure.” Eisley lands a tender kiss on my cheek, and then gathers her things to go.
She slips out the door, and a knot tightens in my chest. We need a resolution before this whole thing tears us apart.