Chapter 5 #3
She smiles, and our eyes hold for a simmering moment. Right when my lower half starts to burn with desire, she grabs her fork and gently cuts off a small portion of cake.
“Thank you for saying that,” she says, bringing the piece of cake under her nose. She inhales, and the way her breasts lift in her dress when she does has me cautioning a glance that could absolutely get me caught.
I dig in, cutting myself a small bite too. I bring the fork to my mouth but Juliette stops me with her hand on my bicep. “Wait.”
The place where she’s touched me, beneath the Oxford-cotton blend of my Brioni dress shirt, actually burns for a moment, I swear. Her blue eyes hold mine for a long, quiet moment before I reply, “okay.”
A smile rips across her face. “Can I text Zennie a photo of you? She was so stressed that Kat would be upset, and if you think about it, it’s kinda funny, right?”
My mind veers back to the lecture I delivered to Kat about the sanctity of marriage and the importance of completing these wedding rituals together.
I drum my fingers on the table, still holding a bite on my fork.
“I wish they both could have been here. Cake tasting is just one of the many special memories to look back on. It’s not just the wedding. ”
“I know,” she replies quickly, then volleys her head a little, clarifying, “well, I don’t know know but I get what you’re saying.
” Flustered, she smiles awkwardly and adds, “it really is a bummer for them that things came up. You’re right.
” She lowers her fork to the plate as if she’s been scolded, and my stomach lurches at the way my words caused such a negative and drastic demeanor switch.
I lower my fork, too. “But,” I hedge, “I understand the reasons why they couldn’t make today work at the last minute.
Life is like that.” My heart is suddenly on edge, racing, hammering in my throat, and in my ears.
“If they couldn't be here, I’m glad that we could be.” I lift her fork and slip it back into her hand, and do the same to mine.
I make a show of shaking my head as if I’ve got Fabio’s locks, and run my tongue over my teeth before plastering on the biggest, corniest smile, lifting my fork to my mouth.
Juliette explodes into what appears to be controlled giggles, the bite of cake on her fork wobbling with each deep belly laugh that erupts from her.
“That’s quite the smile,” she manages, lifting her phone to take the photo.
She takes a few, with the camera making the faux-shutter noise, then flips the camera to face us in selfie mode, and leans toward me, pressing her piece of cake into mine.
She takes the photo, and I’m a desperate fool to see it, but it doesn’t occur to her that I would like to see it.
I’m sure we’ve taken a hundred photos together over the years. Have I ever asked to see any of them? No. Before I can ask, she sets her phone down on the table and faces me with a smile. “I sent those off to Zennie and Kat, I hope you don’t mind.”
“What I mind is holding a fork with cake on it and not eating it. It’s been about two years now.
I’m sure they’re married already. Do we even need to taste the cake at this point?
” I hedge, sarcasm dripping from each word as a devilish smirk takes over.
Juliette loves my pointed sarcasm, and always has.
“Oh my goodness, okay,” she sighs playfully. “You’re right.” She clinks her fork tines against mine, and then, eyes locked, we take the bite.
Her eyes close, and my dick stands up. “Oh god,” she hums, the pink tip of her tongue jutting out, along her full lips. Her eyes open, and she smiles. “I may have been the wrong person for this job. There is not a cake I’ve met that I don’t like. Plus, almonds are my jam.”
I chew and swallow my bite, and I think the cake is probably incredible, but all I can fucking focus on is the smudge of frosting left in the corner of her mouth.
She pushes the rest of the piece away, and drags the tines of her fork down her tongue before cutting off a small bite of the next flavor. “It’s a shame that all this cake gets wasted, you know? And it’s so good,” she moans, reliving the almond cake.
I point to the corner of my mouth with my index finger, motioning to her that she’s got frosting on her mouth.
“Just a touch here,” I say, quickly refocusing on the next slice of cake so I’m not stuck looking at those full, pouty lips.
“And it doesn’t have to be a waste. Take it home with you.
I’m sure Kat paid for the tasting, did she not? You can take it.”
Immediately she flushes, cheeks going a shade of red I’d only suspect she’s worn in panties before. “I don’t–no, that’s okay. I wasn’t trying to get you to offer–” her sentence falls off a cliff as she brings her palms to her cheeks, shaking her head.
Placing my hand on her bare shoulder, I give it a squeeze, ignoring the electricity that surges through me at the simple connection. Juliette drops her hands to her lap, and sets her focus on me, mouth falling apart. Her rapt focus on my mouth is making it hard to think, but I manage.
“Juliette. I know you weren’t trying to get me to offer you the cake.
That’s ridiculous. But you’re right. It’s senseless for it to be wasted.
” I remove my hand, and I can’t help but think there’s a flicker of disappointment across her features when I do.
But then she smiles. “Sorry, I’m just having a rough few days.
I’m kind of embarrassed I’m being so over the top. ”
I shake my head. “You know, I think maybe now I want to take the cake home.” I fold my arms across my chest, and her eyes follow the movement, tracing my suspenders and the buttons on my shirt. Slowly, her gaze lands on mine. “You’re going to have to fight me for it. I just decided.”
She laughs, and an air of seriousness washes over her just as Maxine pops the door open, sticking her hairnet partially inside. “Can I get either of you anything?”
Juliette grabs her fork with the second cake bite still on it, as if the teacher has just come back to class and discovered we were goofing off.
“We’re trying another one right now,” she assures Maxine, who honestly, doesn’t seem to care if we’re in here eating cake or smearing it all over each other.
Maxine nods. “Enjoy.”
The door closes, and I join Juliette in trying the next cake. Immediately, with just one bite, I know that this is a heavenly, perfect cake. But definitely not for the wedding. Juliette does a double take at the tiny card sitting neatly on the tray, reading the flavor aloud.
“Bananas Foster,” she slowly reads, narrowing her gaze as she leans over the table a bit to read. The ends of her silky hair drag over the slice of almond cake, leaving small clumps of frosting on the end.
She licks her lips after swallowing her bite, and we look at one another. “Thank goodness you’re here instead of Kat.”
My eyes gravitate to the end of her hair, and I could tell her, the way I did with the frosting in the corner of her mouth. I should just tell her.
But I don’t.
Reaching over, I tangle my fingers with the ends of her hair, grabbing the bit of frosting left behind. Our faces are not more than a foot apart, and I look into her eyes, wide and blue, reminding me of the most perfect summer sky, and say, voice rough and low, “I was thinking the same thing.”
Juliette’s eyes widen, but her lids go hooded. Those full lips part. My heart races but time stops. “Because she’s allergic to bananas?” She searches for confirmation that this moment is normal and not the suddenly charged, heated and explosive moment that it actually is.
I am not alone in these sudden feelings, I see that now, in those blue eyes I’ve looked into so many times.
I shrug, and boldly bring a forkful of the next flavor to her mouth, and she opens. Her eyes flutter closed as the Butterscotch Bourbon flavor courses through her. I want to taste it off of her lips, but instead I reply, voice gravelly, “Something like that.”
Using the fork I slip out of her mouth, I sink it into the cake, and she watches as my mouth closes around the tines. The very same tines that just slid along her taste buds. She swallows thickly, and between my thighs, things get serious.
“I think this is the one,” I tell her, about the cake or her, I don’t know.
And what’s more, I don’t know where all of this is suddenly coming from.
In the last thirty minutes I’ve gone from finding Juliette intensely attractive to getting little fucking heart skips and sweaty hands as if… I like her.
The last time I felt this flutter and kick, the excitement of the horizon with someone, it was with Katherine.
“They’re all really good,” she says, stealing her fork from me to take another bite. “Can I tell you something?”
I nod, pouring us a bit more water. “Always. You know that.”
She sips her water, and pushes her hair over her shoulder, exposing the soft, naked skin of her throat. My eyes go there, but she pushes the plate away from her, and faces me, grabbing my attention.
“I think they should get the vanilla.”
I’m surprised at the little freefall of disappointment in my chest. “Because of the versatility?”
She nods, a little line forming between her brows. “That’s probably a terrible way to choose a wedding cake, isn’t it? Trying to please everyone else.”
“It’s not terrible. But extending that behavior over a life, that’s what's terrible.” I know from experience.
The knit in her brows tightens, and her nose wrinkles. It’s fucking cute. “Being a people pleaser?”
I nod, halfway. “Putting everyone’s wants and needs before your own. If you do that, you may find yourself lonely and alone at fifty-two.” Fuck, that was pretty vulnerable. I came here to taste cake, not bare my soul.
Yet.
I don’t say that kind of stuff around Geo, even. And he’s my brother. Hell, my own son is one of my best friends and I don’t make soul-baring remarks like that around him, either.
Juliette pulls my desires and thoughts out of me, and it’s the strangest thing. No one has done that before. No one but Katherine.
“And yes, lonely and alone are two very different things.”
Her eyes go knowingly wide. “Oh I’m well aware. You can be sitting next to someone, or lying next to them in bed, and still feel lonely as hell.”
She looks at the thin diamond band, and I take my opportunity. “That’s beautiful,” I tell her, and it is. It’s beautiful. But the only way I’ll actually like that ring is if she bought it for herself.
Fanning her fingers out, she holds her palm with the other and nods once. “It is.”
I want to ask more, but she isn’t forthcoming, so I let it be. Maxine pops in, and wraps the leftover slices of cake for me, setting them in a purple and pink paperbag. “Once you two decide which one is the one, just give us a call and we’ll finish the order.”
“Oh,” Juliette says, looking between me and Maxine. “We aren’t the couple getting married. I’m the Maid of Honor,” she says, pressing her hand to her chest, “and this is the father of the bride.”
“The brides couldn’t make it at the last minute,” I add.
Maxine smiles. “Well, you two look like you’re about to get married.” She smiles again, looking between us like she didn’t just make everything fucking awkward. “Alright, have one of the brides gimme a call!”
And within a minute, I find myself saying goodbye to Juliette, ducking into my car with a hard-on tucked into my belt.
My mind is spinning. That wasn’t all in my head. Was it?
Once I pull out of my spot on the street and let the man honking viciously in his Prius have my place, I do what I do when I feel this way.
I call my brother.
“How was cake tasting?”
Weaving through traffic, I launch into it. “Juliette was there, in place of Zennie.”
“Oh no, is Zennie okay?” Geo asks, concern coloring his tone.
I nod my head out of habit, veering into the turn lane with a honk. “Taking care of her mom but yes, she’s okay. Family called.”
“I understand,” my brother says. “And now I’m understanding this phone call. You tasted wedding cake with Juliette today. How did that go?”
“Fuck.” That’s genuinely the only response I can summon at this moment.
Geo laughs. “You having a Juliette crush flare up? It’ll pass, like you said, right? Giving Katherine’s ring to Kat, your baby getting engaged, you’re going through it right now, and it’s manifesting in this attachment and attraction to a safe person in your life, which is Juliette.”
Juliette is safe, true, but that logic isn’t sitting. “Why not Elle? If this is just some emotional reactive bullshit, why would I not gravitate toward Elle? She’s my age, she’s–well, you know.”
Geo hums. “I don’t know. But you’ll be okay. It’ll pass. Your words.”
The line is quiet, and my brother waits patiently for me to gather my thoughts. I make a final turn back toward the highway, and merge on, my car disappearing into the masses. “Yeah, it’ll pass.”
Continued silence, then, “I don’t know if I want it to pass, and that’s the problem.”