Chapter 14 Luca
Chapter fourteen
Luca
Epilogue
Inever doubted that our Earl Grey pie would win first place, but seeing that blue ribbon in Archie’s hand right next to the other one he won for his lemon pepper carrot pie—it’s divine, obviously—sets off a series of small detonations in my chest. They take down the last of my already crumbling walls.
The smile Archie gives us when he turns around?
It’s so pure. So much like it used to be.
It’s not about the ribbons.
It’s not about the pies.
He’s smiling because he’s so proud of us. We did this together as a team.
Dulcie takes my hand, lets out a squeal, and rushes over to her dad. She gathers her mom along the way and gives us a group hug like mad right in front of our award-winning pies. Words are so inadequate. Her shining eyes speak volumes without them.
People mill all around the center. It’s a fair, and we’re inside, right after the ribbons were handed out.
The whole thing drew quite a crowd. There are rides outside, games, stands with caramel and candy apples, cotton candy, popcorn, and freshly squeezed lemonade.
The large area isn’t just set up for pie judging.
There are many different booths set up trade show style, selling everything from tea to cleaning products, bags to dip mixes.
And most likely thousands of other things.
Marietta showed up, folks.
Dulcie has reclaimed some of her goth phase.
She had all the clothes, and they weren’t cheap, so why not?
She’s wearing a knee-length peplum black velvet dress today, and her long hair is up, with some tendrils left down to frame her face.
Her overall makeup is minimal, just heavy on the eyeliner to complete the look.
She takes my hand after she releases her parents from the family group hug. “Luca and I are just going to walk around for a bit. Maybe go on a few rides. I definitely want an elephant ear.”
Archie snorts, mock offended. “I could bake you one whenever you like!”
“Dad,” she responds with a wry grin. “I know that, but today’s your day off. And I want one that’s been fried and tastes a little bit like old oil and fairground dust. It’s just not the same experience if you don’t have one here.”
“It’s a tradition.” Dulcie’s mom pokes her dad in the ribs. “For her to get one and for you to complain.”
“Are you guys heading home, or are you going to be brave enough to finally do the Ferris wheel?” Dulcie winks at me. “For a decade, they’ve been saying they’re going to do it.”
“This year’s the year,” Archie vows. He studies the ribbons in his hand, then passes them over to us like an offering.
My heart pings against my ribs.
“Oh, Dad!” Dulcie gasps. “No way. We’re not taking those.”
“Just for safekeeping. The wind at the top of the Ferris wheel is probably strong. I don’t want to take a chance that they’ll blow away.”
She laughs, hugs her dad, then launches herself at her mom, her pure joy evident in the enthusiastic shuffling of her feet.
“In that case, I’ll tuck them into my bag.
I’ll keep them safe. I swear. They’re going to hang proudly in the bakery, and first thing in the morning, I’m going to update the website and put the blue-ribbon-winning carrot and Early Grey pies on for purchase. ”
Over the past few weeks, we haven’t just been busy developing new flavors of pies and baking, baking, baking.
Archie, Susan, and I spent long days in the kitchen.
Dulcie did too, but she also spent long hours locked away in the small office at the back of the bakery, revamping the website.
She also put together a marketing campaign that she planned on launching the day after the Pi and Pie Science and Food Fair, even if we didn’t win anything at all.
This year, they made an announcement right at the start of the day.
There is no longer a Pie Master title. It was problematic the past few years, with people starting fights and challenging the rulings, so this year, they went back to solely doing ribbons.
I never participated in one of these because they started after I’d already left, when the fair was revamped.
Dulcie tried to explain how the judging worked, but it didn’t make a whole lot of sense in my mind.
It was easy to see how there could be room for error and disputes.
“Good luck on the Ferris wheel,” Dulcie wishes her parents. “We might even see you there. If not, though, I’ll be back at the house later. I won’t be too late. I want to have time to get the promos up and running and make sure the website gets its updates, including all the photos from today.”
“Luca,” Archie says, happiness erasing the deep lines that have bracketed his eyes and mouth, and been etched into his forehead over these past few weeks.
“Make sure my daughter has the most wonderful evening. No work should be done. This is a celebration. Not just of these ribbons, but of our family.”
Dulcie rolls her eyes. “I think I should have a say in that.” She fists her hands on her hips. “But I guess I can wait until tomorrow morning.”
“Alright then. Enjoy your elephant ears baked by a stranger.” Archie’s nose wrinkles. “Have a wonderful time.”
Susan drags her husband away, not toward the exit but deeper into the arena, muttering something about needing new mops before the Ferris wheel and it being better in the dark anyway.
Dulcie and I stand and watch them go. We can also clearly hear her mom angling to get a caramel apple with nuts.
She loudly complains about the bakery not having them.
Dulcie links her arm through mine. “Maybe we should start selling different kinds of apples. It would be so much fun to make them.” Then, she pauses to think about that. “Or maybe not. It’s probably a ton of work.”
“I’d like to give them a try.”
She steers me outside, her leather messenger bag bumping between us, the blue ribbons safely tucked inside. After being indoors for so long, even the low-riding evening sun peeking out between the booths and rides seems blinding.
“Give them a try here, or give them a try at the bakery?” Dulcie asks.
“Both.”
Her smile is even brighter than the sun. “Why does the thought of you eating one get me so freaking hot?”
“Because you’re insatiable?” I suggest under my breath.
Dulcie grins. “Exactly.”
She leads us straight to a truck selling bags of cotton candy, several types of apples, and elephant ears, all in one shop. The wasps have moved in, buzzing all over the sticky bags and spilled sugar. We’re well back in the line, so we don’t have to ward them off.
There are lots of people out here. It hasn’t been easy, but every day, I’ve intentionally started to let go of my fears of being stared at.
As Dulcie pointed out, people will look, but that’s only natural.
They stare at beauty as well. They’re drawn to anything they find interesting or unique.
Even a single feature like a piercing or a welcoming smile can draw attention.
Even if people gape at me or whisper, Dulcie has always made it clear that she’s proud to be right beside me.
She doesn’t pretend my scars aren’t there.
She sees them when she looks at me. They’re a part of the man that she’s in love with.
We worked late at the bakery one night last week.
She was adamant that she wanted to update the bakery’s social media sites, along with the new website.
She couldn’t be torn away from it, but she allowed me to get takeout and come back, spread it all out on the desk like a picnic, and generally annoy her while I tried to be helpful.
I’ll never forget the moment she looked up from her laptop, her face looking so soft, even though it was lit by the rather harsh office lighting, and told me that she was going to L-bomb drop me, so if I wanted to run, I should get up and do it.
I didn’t run.
And the work she was so focused on had to wait until the morning, because there was no way I wasn’t telling her I loved her back.
There was no way I wasn’t kissing her, and there was no way she was going to be satisfied with a kiss.
There was also no way, NO WAY I was going to get frisky in an office we didn’t have the sole use of, so we ended up driving directly to my hotel.
She likes it when I dress old-timey, so I picked black to match her dress.
Black pants, black button-up shirt, and black suspenders.
I literally only wear them with her in mind, although thinking about her ripping my shirt off and leaving the suspenders on like she did that first time in my kitchen isn’t appropriate for a public place, so I quickly think about wasps chasing us for our treats instead.
No one likes wasps. They’re universal assholes the world over.
The line moves quickly, and soon enough, we get our treats. A caramel apple without nuts for me, and a giant elephant ear for Dulcie. Thankfully, the wasps don’t chase us as there are better pickings at the food truck.
We amble through the crowds, and I focus on Dulcie instead of the occasional way people turn their heads, their eyes roaming over my scars.
I don’t think Dulcie notices, but of course she does. She stops, licks the powdered sugar off her fingers, and brushes a strand of my hair back. I slicked it away from my face to match the outfit, but I guess the pomade only lasts for so long. She tucks a floppy strand of hair behind my ear.
“I love you, Luca.” She told me the first time that it was a baby love. The kind that grows from lust and infatuation into learning and deepening, trust and friendship.
She always explains herself so well. She’s so open and mature and so comfortable with herself that it’s taught me how to connect with my own body again. I’ve been able to see past my fears and the restrictions and limitations I’ve placed on myself.