Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
KENZIE
"He likes you."
"As a friend," I argue.
"I have no idea why he's not all over you," she comments.
"He's not into me," I protest. I'd be a dumbass if I got my hopes up. Men like him don't date women like me. I'm not into designer clothes, and my eyebrows aren't weaved. I wear tinted sunscreen to protect my skin and lipstick to protect my lips from the sun and wind. I have no clue how to make my eyes look smokey. I do the TikTok tutorials, but I end up looking like the Bride of Frankenstein .
I've never been a part of a clique, and I worry that I'm doomed to be alone. If I could only have one friend, I'd pick Bo.
Maybe the two of us will be roommates forever.
But if the shop does well, I can buy a house. I smile at the thought of Sherlock having a larger yard. Maybe I could get a partner for him. The vision warms my heart.
"He is into you. I'm telling you. A man doesn't drop that kind of money on champagne without a payoff. I can't put my finger on it. The two of you are so wrapped up in each other it's as if I didn't exist."
"I'm sorry. I don't want you to feel left out."
"I wasn’t. It's that you two have this quirky banter. You feed off of each other. It's adorable, actually."
"Great. I want to get laid, and we're adorable like baby koalas."
"They are cute!" she giggles.
I roll my eyes at her. “You’re not helping."
"You should ask what he does for a living. I mean, he has serious cash judging from his pricey car. I mean, you thought Jeff was pretentious."
"Jeff was, and you know it. Mikael doesn't flaunt it. And his car is still practical,” I reply, defending him. “He just wanted to celebrate my big decision. If it weren’t for him, I doubt I would’ve bought the store. Plus, he has good business sense. Is that weird?”
"No, especially since he probably has loads of cash to invest. He might be an angel investor."
"What the hell is that?"
"It's where wealthy people help make dreams come true for others by investing in their endeavors." She pauses, contemplating her words.
Considering the fact he's so mysterious, she might have a point.
"That makes sense," I concede. "I'll have to ask if I see him again."
"You'll see him again. I'm not worried. How could you miss how he looked at you? The man only has eyes for you. He practically undressed you with his eyes. And he has gorgeous eyes at that.”
"Mm. Nope, I missed that." I lie. I thought I dreamt it but since she mentioned it, her statement is comforting. I inwardly smile, because she has savvy people skills. It’s her superpower. If anyone can read a room, it’s her.
She's rarely wrong in her character assessments. She has an uncanny ability to know liars when she meets them. She’s like an old soul, with skills beyond her years. For instance, if we were at a card table in Vegas, she'd be able to read players’ tells and predict what they would do next. I wish I had superpowers like that.
Mikael: How’s the head?
Me: Hating me. It tasted great going down, not so much coming up.
Mikael: I’m sorry. Did you have a good time?
It was the best night actually—despite the fact I clung to the cheap plastic toilette seat and puked until there wasn’t anything left to revolt.
Me: I had a great time.
Mikael: Great.
I grab a liquid IV from the fridge and drag my dehydrated ass to the shop filled with mixed emotions. Today, I'm making a cake for a child leaving the pediatric floor. It's a momentous occasion. I want to give back to the community because I've been blessed. I will never forget where I've been. I'm grateful for my life.
By the time I'm decorating the Oreo cookie cake by filling in a character named Bley, I’m feeling much better. There was no way I was calling in sick today. I heard Jared is two and loves the little dog named Bluey I write Jared’s name on the cake in blue frosting.
Sylvie is finishing up on the mini cheesecakes and walks over. She's a hard worker and jumps in where she's needed. She’s also a single mom with jet-dark black hair, red highlights, and interesting tattoos.
"He'll love it,” she purrs.
"I hope so," I reply. Gabriel is off today, and I'm nervous about leaving the employees on their own.
"I'll make sure things run smoothly while you're gone," she volunteers.
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
"I hear you might be buying the shop," she replies.
"Yes. I hope so."
"I'd love to move into a manager role."
"I think that would be great." I'd love to give Sylvie a promotion. The thought of making employees' lives better makes me happy, but it's also another reason I can't fail.
I push down the panic of my newfound responsibilities by focusing on the cake.
"I'll leave in an hour."
"Great, I'll bake the cake for the next order."
"Thank you, Sylvie.
I enter the children's ward with the cake inside a box and walk to the nurses’ station to check-in.
"Peggy!" I greet the nurse I've known for years. She's dressed in scrubs with Paw Patrol cartoon characters on them.
"Kenzie, thank you for coming.” She peers inside the box. “ Oh, my, Jared is going to love that cake.”
"I hope he loves being home more."
"For sure," she smiles in agreement.
The floor fills with voices, and I notice a film crew at the end of the hallway.
"What's going on?"
"Some local hockey players are here to cheer the kids up."
"Hockey?"
"Yeah. The Maine Maulers donate money to the floor, and it buys extras for the child life center and provides counseling for families."
"That's nice. I didn't know they did that." It makes sense. I'm sure tax write-offs are mandatory for multi-million-dollar conglomerates.
"You should swing by. The men are to die for."
"I'm sure."
I realize I have to pass the players to reach Jared's room.
As I approach the hot men, one looks familiar.
"Mikael?"
"Kenzie!" He breaks away from the group. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm bringing a cake to a patient." My eyes quiz him.
"I come by a few times a year to cheer up the kids,” he volunteers.
"You're a hockey player?"
He chuckles. "Yeah. I didn't tell you because I liked being with you without the complications."
"Complication?" What are you talking about?"
"Women expect more from me because of who I am, and when I'm with you, I'm me, without the celebrity status. I don't feel like I have to be someone else with you."
I hug the cake to my chest. “Nice seeing you, but I have to go," I say, eyeing the room I was heading to.
I can’t believe Mikael has insecurities too. He has everything. What’s there to be insecure about?
"Sure,” he replies. “We're almost finished. I'll walk down and join you in a minute."
"Okay,” I reply. When I enter Jared's room his face lights up. "Jared, I made you a special cake,” I announce.
“Cake!” he yells, not caring that his head is bald.
"I hear you're going home,” I say as I place the box on the tray near his bed.
"Yep!" He bounces off the bed and peers at the box. I lift the cake out and put the box on the bed. I lower the tray so he can reach it.
“Thank you so much, Kenzie. The nurses told us you do this and I want you to know it’s appreciated,” his mother says. I understand her without knowing her. Her face is a mixture of happiness and fear.
Her son is cured, but it's months of scans and lab work, and with each milestone comes the reality that nothing is etched in stone. No one will ever say we're free of it returning. Cancer is insidious. It robs us of many things, but mostly, a piece of mind. Nothing is guaranteed. This is sad because after we've won the most difficult challenge of our lives, we're never out of the woods. Not really.
Peggy walks in. "Are you ready to go home, Jared?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" He jumps with each word. He’s wearing a shirt with trucks printed on it and jeans. His feet are covered with Bluey slippers that fit snuggly around his ankles.
"Okay. You’re going to smash the cake for good luck. You can lick the frosting off your hand if you want,” I say.
He swipes his finger over the cake and tastes the icing.
"It's delicious!" He rolls his eyes at me like it’s the greatest thing in the world and he makes me laugh.
Mom has her cell phone primed for pictures.
"Okay, put your fist in the cake!" Peggy says.
Jared punches the cake, then licks his fingers again.” Yum! Chocolate is my favorite," he says.
I hear a deep chuckle and turn to the doorway.
Mikael.
I hug Jared and his mom before I join the amused hockey player.
We walk to the end of the corridor.
"How did you get involved with this?" I ask.
"I had a best friend, a hockey buddy. He passed away on the chemo floor at twelve. I was devastated. He wanted to carry the Stanley Cup when he grew up, but he never got the chance. I think of him when I put my skates on. It's like he's with me, y'know?" he glances at me. I'm teary-eyed. Hold it together, Kenzie. "Anyway, I play for him. He was a better player than me. He deserved to be here. I want the cup, sure. But I want to hold it for him. What about you?"
"I was here when I was a teenager. Bo was with me most of the time. My mom dropped me off and made an excuse to go home as soon as possible. I spent many nights alone but occasionally the nurses would let Bo sleep over. Those sleepovers were the only thing that made me feel normal. I was scared out of my mind. My experimental treatment lasted a year and I don't know if I can have kids. I always wanted kids. It’s probably why Sherlock is so important to me. Not only is he my first indulgence but he’s someone to love and he gives me unconditional love. I was afraid to get a pet in case something happened to me,” I shrug.
I know I don’t have to explain the meaning behind that to him.
“I adore Sherlock and he means the world to me—he’s an extension of me, and cheers me up. That’s why I was so emotional when he got away that day. It’s like he’s my kid. That, and the fact that I have PTSD."
"You're a survivor," he whispers, and I know that he understands me and what I’ve been through.
"Yes," I whisper, quietly accepting that it's an additional title I've garnered with that of a pastry chef. My body is covered in goosebumps. Flight or fight has kicked in.
Not many people do. Cancer makes everyone nervous. It’s the universal word that stops conversation and makes people act wonky. I see it all the time because it’s predictable. People fidget or suddenly leave the room when the “C” word is dropped.
We’ve all seen it, witnessed it, or been that person who can’t come to grips with life’s harsh reality of the “What if.” Avoidance is used as a shield. It’s too traumatic for them to process what their life would have been like if they hadn’t dodged the bullet themselves. Perhaps some do think of how their life would change if they were in my shoes and it’s another reason for them to avoid me.
We’re silent as we both process the details of our past and I feel his eyes on my face. It’s a normal uncomfortable feeling because being vulnerable with a man is new to me. I've never been this vulnerable with anyone but Bo.
"I have to go," I state as I turn abruptly. I’m overwhelmed by the memories I run from—the memories that are in my subconscious and keep me up at night.
I bolt down the closest stairwell and hurry to my car. I'm a mixed bag of emotions, and somehow, Mikael unlocked a past trauma. I've never let anyone in but somehow, Mikael found a way to breach my wall
I'm overwhelmed with emotion and sit in my car, crying.