Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Savina
THE FRONT BELL chimes as the door swings open, letting in a swirl of warm August air and the metallic scent of Manhattan rain.
Frosted Vows Bakery is nestled between a flower boutique and a fancy wine bar on a quiet block in the West Village.
Even though my stepmother picked this place, I actually have no complaints.
She did something right this time, and I’m extremely grateful.
I’m sure there are selfish reasons behind it all, but I try not to think about those and just focus on the fact that she wants me to have a great wedding cake, at the very least. And that’s called progress in my book, considering our history.
Darby and I head inside quickly to escape the sporadic raindrops, and this place feels like its own, little world.
There are pale pink walls with white daisies painted on them sporadically, and brass shelves scattered throughout the store with cake stands in every color of the rainbow.
On the marble countertop front and center sits a five-tiered wedding cake waiting for final touches.
Tiny hand-painted sugar flowers climb up one side of the masterpiece on an intricately piped dark green vine like they’re trying to chase the sunshine through the skylight above.
“This place is beautiful,” Darby comments, and I nod in agreement.
A few moments later, the bell chimes again and in walks Cosette, Pavel and Dimitri. Cosette closes her umbrella and announces, “Your father couldn’t make it, Savina. He’s busy.”
I’m sure Papà wasn’t busy at all. He probably just made an excuse not to come. He hates stuff like this, and I can’t say I blame him. I definitely take after him in that regard.
“Same with our father. He sends his regards,” Pavel says, but I can see the glint of amusement in his eye. He’s probably thinking the same thing I am. Our fathers were lucky to get out of this situation. None of us truly want to be here right now. Well, except for maybe Cosette.
Speaking of which, she’s oohing and ahhing over every single thing she sees, making a big deal out of nothing, as per usual.
Her tight, designer dress clings to her body, although I’m not sure who she’s trying to impress, and her Louboutin heels click against the tiled floor with every exaggerated step she takes.
My gaze finds Dimitri across the room, and he looks bored already.
His eyes skim over the cakes with disinterest. And if I’m not mistaken, he looks tired, worn out.
I can’t help but wonder what he did after he left my apartment last night.
Maybe he had to tie up some loose ends and didn’t go home right away.
It doesn’t look like he got any sleep, and that troubles me.
But when his icy, blue eyes lock onto mine from across the room and he gives me a gentle smile, it makes all my worries instantly melt away.
Usually, we’re scowling at each other and trying to make the other one miserable or uncomfortable.
And, well, I hate to admit it, but this change of pace feels… nice.
A woman steps out from the back room, stealing my attention away from Dimitri.
She’s older with streaks of gray hair mixed in her blonde, and she has a warm smile on her face as she approaches me.
“Hello, I’m Helen, the primary baker and owner.
Are you here for the Cipriano-Sokolov wedding cake tasting? ” she asks.
“Yes, we are,” Cosette answers for me.
I simply bite my tongue, smile and try to remember that Cosette picked this amazing place. I have to give her credit for that at least and I suppose some leeway in return.
“Great,” Helen remarks. “I have you all set up in the back. Please follow me.” She then proceeds through a door, and we all trail behind.
“You should’ve worn a dress, Savina,” Cosette chastises me when she gets closer.
I’ll admit I wanted to be comfortable today, but I am by no means inappropriately dressed. I’m wearing a one-shoulder navy blue jumpsuit. Darby told me before we left that it was tasteful and sexy all at the same time, and I always take her opinion very seriously.
“I love your pearl necklace, Cosette,” Darby says, interrupting us and trying to take the heat off of me, which I appreciate. I can hear the snark behind my best friend’s tone, and it makes me smile.
“Why, thank you, Darby. That’s such a nice thing to say,” she answers with a toothy grin. Then, she walks off to go to a table of samples, speaking with the owner privately.
I cough to cover up a giggle as Darby makes a face and some rude gestures behind Cosette’s back. “I can’t believe she commented on your outfit,” she says with a frown. “You look great, Savina.”
“It’s okay but just be careful. You might just make her clutch her pearls if she finds out what you’re wearing under your jacket,” I warn.
Darby is going straight to work after this, so she’s wearing her uniform, which consists of short shorts and a low-cut top.
But right now, the long, black jacket cinched around her waist is covering everything up.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll make her clutch her pearls,” Darby says while waggling her brows. “In fact, I’ll bet money on it.”
“How much?” I whisper conspiratorially.
“Ten dollars.”
“Deal,” I tell her with a handshake.
There is a huge dining table set up with little plates and cake samples, and the owner ushers us towards it.
“Please, have a seat.” Once everyone is seated, she continues.
“Our first round of samples will include the following,” she starts as she begins to read off a menu in her hands.
“We have vanilla, which is baked with a house-made crème fra?che and layered with whipped vanilla bean Chantilly cream filling. And then there is our classic chocolate, which has a hint of coffee in the cake, along with layers of dark chocolate ganache and vanilla cream cheese. And lastly, there is our red velvet with the cream cheese filling and icing.” She puts the menu down and smiles brightly. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” Cosette says before eyeing up the three slices of cake in front of her. “Oh, I don’t know which one to try first!” she exclaims eagerly.
You would think her excitement would rub off on us, but it doesn’t.
If anything, everyone in the room becomes more annoyed.
I risk a glance at Dimitri, but he’s focused on his phone, barely paying attention to anyone or anything around him.
Pavel pokes around at a piece of cake and takes an extremely small bite.
He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and I have to admit that I know exactly how he feels.
Darby digs into the chocolate cake and says, “Holy shit, this is good.”
Cosette frowns at her coarse language but ignores her. Instead, she turns to my future husband. “Have you tried this one, Pavel?” Cosette asks, gently touching his arm and beaming up at him. God, she wants his approval so badly, it’s pathetic.
“I don’t like sweets,” Pavel says, reiterating what I’ve already heard him say before. Cosette seems taken aback by his answer, but she quickly schools her features and flutters her eyelashes at him. “I’ll let Savina decide what she wants,” he then adds.
“But she’ll probably pick something everyone hates,” Cosette protests, and I have to hold Darby back from going after my stepmother across the table.
“Oh, uh, maybe the both of you can come up with some kind of agreement then?” Pavel offers with a forced smile, clearly trying to placate the tense situation.
“Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly and hell will freeze over,” Darby mutters, and I burst out laughing.
Cosette glares at me, and I instantly shut up. “Well, we’ll just have to try every single one until we can come to a unanimous decision,” my stepmother says, and I inwardly groan. Of course, she would make even eating cake miserable and taxing.
After finishing up round one and starting on round two, which consists of raspberry lemon, German chocolate and Danish layer cake, Cosette announces, “I, for one, love the raspberry lemon cake. I think you should choose that one, Savina.”
Raspberry lemon is the only cake I have yet to try, and there is good reason for that. But before I can utter a word about it, Dimitri says from the other end of the table, “Savina is allergic to raspberries.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since we arrived, and his voice sounds rough and raw.
I’m so taken aback by his statement and clear concern for my well-being that I’m rendered speechless.
How the hell does he know that I’m allergic to raspberries?
I can count on maybe one hand the number of people who actually know that.
In fact, I don’t even know if Darby knows that, and we tell each other everything.
“Wait. You are?” Darby asks me, confirming my suspicions.
I turn and glance over at Dimitri, meeting his stare.
Blue on green. He holds my gaze for a moment before breaking it and returning his attention to the cake on his plate.
He moves his fork around, barely eating anything, but just making it seem like he is.
I know he doesn’t want to be here any more than I do, and that makes me feel bad for him.
After everything he’s done for me, he shouldn’t have to sit here and suffer with the rest of us.
I just have to wonder why he bothered coming in the first place?
Maybe he just wanted to be here to support his brother, I think to myself.
Yeah, that has to be it. I try not to think too far into it, because figuring Dimitri out is an impossible mission, which I, unfortunately, discovered the hard way a long time ago.
“Oh, that’s right, I guess Savina is allergic to them,” Cosette says slowly, trying to save face even though she clearly did not remember that fact. “Well, that narrows some of these choices down then, doesn’t it?” she says with a frown.