Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I close the shop early, having finished all the preparations for the gala. I’ve laid the last of the finished pastries to rest in the walk-in cooler, awaiting delivery on Saturday. Before leaving, I send a message to Tucker, informing him of my plans to make a steak dinner tonight. Though I’m a baker by trade, I can whip up a delicious meal when I put my mind to it. I stop by the market, gathering an array of ingredients for Tucker’s dinner, not forgetting to pick up a couple of extra bottles of wine and his favorite bourbon. Any conversation is better with a full belly and a few glasses of wine, so I’m hoping a nice steak dinner will soften the blow.
A headache is brewing in my mind, the magnitude of the conversation we’re about to have pressing down on me like a ton of bricks. Tucker has always been the jealous type, a trait I once found endearing. Knowing that, I never should have divulged the fact that I dated Zach, much less that we slept together. This revelation only complicates matters, even though Zach and I are merely friends now. Whenever someone mentions Zach at a party or gathering—or worse, when the three of us attend the same event—Tucker becomes extremely irritable. We usually end up going home early.
If Tucker discovers that I’ve been working with Zach without telling him? He will be furious. I’ve already accepted that. In fact, if we weren’t mere days away from our wedding, it might be grounds for a breakup. But I know Tucker well enough to know that he’ll never call off the wedding, not after what happened with Charlotte. Not with all his work colleagues, friends, and family flying into town to watch him walk down the aisle, again.
There’s simply too much at stake for him.
Knowing this brings me some comfort, but it also fills me with immense guilt. I know I am being unfair to Tucker. I had intended to tell him about Zach after the wedding, but Monica’s ultimatum has forced my hand.
But what if Tucker can’t forgive me?
A cold, unsettling feeling grips my stomach. I have to take a deep breath to steady myself. I can’t think like that. Tucker loves me, and I love him. Forgiveness is part of the pact. I’ve made a mistake, an error in judgment. It’s not the end of the world.
But even as I try to cling to that certainty, I can’t shake the nagging voice in the back of my mind, the one that whispers that I’ve made a terrible mistake. That by keeping Zach a secret, by letting him into my life in a way that I knew Tucker wouldn’t approve of, I’ve jeopardized everything that matters to me.
I pour myself a glass of wine and put on soft piano music, trying to calm myself. When I hear the rumbling of the garage door opening, I know Tucker has arrived. He enters the room, looking slightly tired, his movements slow and deliberate.
“It smells fantastic in here.”
He doesn’t waste any time crossing the room and wrapping me up in his arms. He gives me a long kiss, and I can smell the faint hint of his aftershave. Something about his embrace always makes me melt a bit inside.
“Thank you for the flowers you sent today,” I say.
He pulls away from me and cups my shoulders in his hands while looking into my eyes. “I love you so much, Reese, and I don’t want anything to come between us.”
“Me too,” I say quietly. We’re about to put that to the test.
He makes himself busy pulling out a wine goblet from the cabinet and pouring himself a drink, and then he settles in at the kitchen island to watch me work. After a few moments, he raises his glass.
“Here’s to us,” he says.
“To us,” I say, tapping my glass against his. “So, how was your day? Anything exciting happening at work?”
He lets out a long sigh. “Oh, you know I’m just trying to wrap up a couple deals before the wedding this weekend. I’ve got a few customers coming into town who I’m excited for you to meet. They are real characters.”
I’ve met a few of Tucker’s clients before, and “characters” is a great way of putting it. Are these guys sketchy? It’s hard to say for sure. On the surface, they all seem to be legitimate businessmen, with thriving companies and impressive portfolios. But there’s something about the way they carry themselves, the way they exchange loaded glances, that makes me wonder.
Either way, it’s Tucker’s business, not mine.
“I’m sure I’m in for a treat.”
I take a step across the kitchen. “Speaking of treats…” I open up the oven. A blast of warm air comes out, practically melting my mascara. I reach in and pull out a tray of freshly baked crab cakes. Using a spatula, I pull one off the tray and settle it onto a plate with a sprig of parsley. I pick up the plate and slide it in front of Tucker. “I made your favorite crab cakes.”
“You’re too good to me,” he says, flashing me a smile.
“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes,” I say. “You can hang out here with me or take a shower if you like.”
It only takes a few forkfuls for him to devour the food. He scrapes up the last few bits of his crab cake and wipes his mouth with a napkin before answering. “I’ll shower.”
On his way out of the kitchen he comes around the counter to give me another kiss, this time on my neck. It sends a jolt of anticipation through me. Tucker has a way of just turning me on in general. I suppose it’s one of the things that keeps us together. “The heat between the sheets,” as they say.
I make myself busy, searing the steaks before popping them into the oven. I blanch some asparagus on the top of the stove. My phone, which I have placed on silent mode, begins to buzz. I look over to see who’s calling and don’t recognize the number, so I decide to ignore it. The last thing I need is a distraction right now, or another cryptic message. I need to finish dinner with Tucker and tell him the truth about Zach. Nothing is more important.
The wine is working its way through my bloodstream, relaxing me and giving me a little bit of a buzz. Just as I’m about ready to drop the asparagus onto a serving platter my phone buzzes again. I let out a deep sigh.
Who could be calling me right now? What do they want?
Again, I dismiss the call and let it go to voicemail. A few minutes later I have everything prepared and ready to go. I’m plating the dishes and taking them into the dining room for us to have dinner when Tucker appears in the kitchen, the faint smell of his spiced soap filling the room as he walks in. He gives me a kiss on the cheek and goes to fill up his wine glass.
My phone starts buzzing. Again, I ignore it.
“Do you need to get that?”
I let out a sigh, glaring at the phone while it purrs on the table .
“Oh no, it’s probably just a spam caller.”
Buzz…
“I think you should answer it. It might be urgent.”
Fine. Balancing a wine glass in one hand I reach over and swipe over the phone.
“Hello?” I say, my voice sounding a bit harsh.
“Is this Reese Montgomery? The owner of Couture Cakes?” The voice is of a man, his tone slightly raspy.
“Yes?”
“Miss Montgomery, this is Lieutenant Connors with the Somerville police department. I’m afraid there’s been a burglary at your shop.”
I set down my wine glass, all of the blood in my veins turning ice cold.
“Okay…”
“We’d like you to meet us here right away. Is that possible?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice quivering like a leaf. “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“See you then,” he says and hangs up the phone.
I look up at Tucker, who’s staring at me. My legs feel suddenly week and I grip the side of the kitchen island to steady myself.
“What happened?”
“Someone’s broken into the shop,” I say, mustering all the strength I have not to burst into tears. He doesn’t hesitate, reaching out for his keys.
“I’ll drive,” he says.
Looks like the conversation about Zach will have to wait.