Chapter 19
Gavin
“I need you to do me a favor,” Charlotte says as she pulls her hair back into a tight ponytail.
“Another favor?” I ask. “But I already did you a favor the other day at the travel agency.”
Charlotte ignores me. “I allowed the downgrade from herb-crusted rack of lamb to char-crusted rack of ribs. I bit my tongue when Holly fell in love with the color swatches from hell. But this is the cake, and the cake matters.”
“I know it matters,” I agree with her. “Everyone loves cake. We need a big one and lots of it.”
“It’s not just about the size,” she says. I open my mouth to say something, but she doesn’t give me a chance to speak. She firmly says, “I swear if you make a joke about size mattering right now, I’ll nut tap you.”
A laugh bursts out of me at the sound of her saying that phrase. But Charlotte goes on.
“Gavin, I’m serious. The cake is so important. Aside from the bride’s dress, it’s literally the focal point of the wedding. It needs to be perfect,” she begs. “Please.”
“Okay, okay, we’ll get a nice cake,” I say, still chuckling.
“Not just nice,”
“Okay. A perfect cake,” I say, and she studies me before half deciding to trust me.
Then she tightens her ponytail, and we walk inside the bakery.
It’s a boutique place with multiple pastry cases loaded with assorted decorated baked goods.
There’s also a coffee menu, and the whole place smells like frosting.
“I’m Jen,” a small blonde girl in a light pink apron with powder blue ruffles around the edges says with a smile. “Are you here for the tasting for the Lacey wedding?”
“Yes,” Charlotte says with a smile. “Oh, but we aren’t them. The bride and groom, I mean. That’s Ben and Holly. We are Gavin and Charlotte. He’s Gavin, I’m Charlotte. And we’re not getting married.”
“Anything else?” I ask, and Charlotte’s cheeks flare. Jen just smiles and leads us to a back room.
“So this is where we do most of our decorating, but I cleared the tables for sampling,” she says. She gestures to a line of single-layer cakes divided into bite-size pieces. “As you can see, we have everything you can think of and more. Here at The Buttercream Society—”
The Buttercream Society? Jesus.
“We pride ourselves on giving our customers more options than just the traditional ones.”
I perk up and turn to look at Charlotte.
“That’s wonderful,” she says with a staged smile. “You do have traditional cakes and flavors, right?”
“Of course,” Jen says. “Our elevated three-tier white cake with vanilla icing is a top seller.”
“That sounds perfect,” she nods, flipping through one of the books.
“Some of our more modern cakes have been very popular as well, and the flavors are unconventionally fabulous!”
“That’s okay,” Charlotte says. “We aren’t looking for anything unconventional.”
I lean forward. “What exactly do you mean by modern?” I ask.
“Gavin?” Charlotte says through a smile, but she's showing her teeth like a dog in a fight ring.
“I’m just asking. There’s no harm in that, is there?” I ask.
“No, there’s not,” Jen answers for her. “And there’s also nothing wrong with tasting all the cakes.”
I smile as Jen places some samples in front of us. I don’t have to look at Charlotte to know she’s pissed. I’m not trying to steamroll her here. I know what she wants. But who passes up free samples?
“So here we have the trad menu,” Jen says, pointing at the little cake cubes that literally all look exactly the same. “This is vanilla, almond, and white.”
“Lovely,” Charlotte says, gingerly cutting into one of them. “I was thinking vanilla, but the almond would be a little more fun. It certainly smells good–what are you doing?”
I turn with a mouth full of cake to see Charlotte gaping at me as if I had just eaten the actual wedding cake. “What?” I mumble.
“You’re supposed to taste them separately. Not all at the same time,” she says.
“Why? They’re pretty much the same thing,” I say as I lick my fingers. “Although I do see what you’re saying about the almond. Very nutty.”
Charlotte is glaring.
Jen is cracking up.
“Why don’t we move on to the other menu, shall we?” she asks.
“What are these?” Charlotte asks, poking at an orange cake cube flecked with green.
“Don’t knock ‘em till you try ‘em,” she says. I’m intrigued; Charlotte is not. “We have mango jalapeno, maple bacon, and lavender honey, which is a fan favorite.”
“I’m sorry, did you say bacon?” Charlotte asks, her expression saying it all. She hates this.
“Same question,” I nod, “but different tone. Did you say bacon?! Pass it this way.”
Jen hands me a sample, and I pop it in my mouth, chewing slowly. “Damn, that’s good.”
“So that one is especially popular with our morning weddings,” Jen says.
“People get married in the morning?” I ask, reaching for another sample.
“Yes,” Charlotte answers, taking a small, prudent bite. “It’s becoming quite popular, actually. Mostly during the summer. Sunrise ceremonies with brunch receptions.”
“I almost love that,” I say.
“Honestly, I don’t hate it,” she says. “But most people don’t want to get out of bed when there’s two feet of snow on the ground and it’s dark outside,” she says. I’m smart enough to know that’s her way of saying don’t get any ideas.
“You should try this cake,” I tell her, waving a piece in front of her upturned nose. “Just taste it…for research purposes for future brunch weddings.”
Charlotte snags the cake cube from my hand. “Fine, I’ll try it. Just stop waving it around in my face,” she snaps. She shoves it in her mouth and chews dramatically. “There. Happy?”
Then she stops.
“Well?” I ask.
“Oh my god,” she says with a giggle.
“Good?” Jen asks.
“Good?” Charlotte asks. “It’s freaking delicious.”
I laugh, reaching for another sample, but Charlotte intercepts and swipes it from me, popping it into her mouth.
“So, have we made a decision?” Jen asks.
Charlotte dusts her hands off and swallows. “I mean, it’s really good, but it’s just not what I envisioned.”
“Well, sometimes weddings end up being different than what we expect,” Jen says. “We bend the rules a little.”
Charlotte sighs. “I’m starting to think there are no rules anymore.”
I study her and then turn to Jen. “I have an idea,”
“Oh boy, here we go,” Charlotte mutters. “Let me guess. Cornbread? To match the barbecue?”
“Do you have red velvet?” I ask Jen.
“Absolutely,” she answers.
“With cream cheese frosting?” I ask.
“Of course.”
Charlotte looks at me, and I turn to her. “How’s that for a middle ground?”
She bites her lip. “Well, Holly probably wouldn’t want just plain white,” she says as she thinks about it. “Red velvet is probably perfect.”
“Then it’s settled,” I say. “One three-tiered red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting.”
“I love it,” Jen says, writing it down on a tablet.
“And a mini maple bacon to go,” Charlotte says, and I look over at her.
“Shut up,” she says, and I bite my lip.