Chapter Twenty
Bobbi
The fresh heavy cream churns, mixing with the sugar and a dash of vanilla, getting the consistency I need before I can start decorating the cake. I introduced Josie to Japanese-style nama cream frosting, and she immediately became obsessed. Since I’m taking five apple pies for TJ, who will likely not share even one, I’m baking a cake for Josie and Cassie.
Nama cream is my favorite to work with because it’s easy to decorate with and tastes fantastic. Luxuriously rich without being overly sugary. I’m also loving it that more and more people I introduce it to agree with my assessment. But there is a downside: using it tends to trigger memories of Mexico.
I run the electric whisk to beat the cream. I added a bit of yellow food coloring, and the shade is just right—bright and cheery without looking radioactive. The choice between nama cream frosting and fondant was hard, but in the end, the former won out. Noah will like it better anyway. He’s apparently never had nama cream frosting before, and I want him to taste it on his birthday, even if it’s going to be more difficult than fondant for the particular cake design I have in mind.
The already cooled cake is sitting on the rack. I take two round sheets, then cut them into the right shapes. I put plenty of cream on top of one, then lay the other on top. Now it looks right. I want to make a cake with the theme of a guy getting kissed by his girlfriend. There isn’t enough time to get super fancy, so I’m keeping it simple, making both of them look like round yellow emojis.
Dark frosting out of a piping bag becomes the male emoji’s hair, the shade an exact match for Noah’s. And I do the same for the female emoji with golden frosting. Molded chocolate pieces for the eyes and mouths…voilà!
It was amazing luck that the Airbnb I rented has a fully stocked and generously sized kitchen. And even though it’s on the Pacific coast of Mexico, all I had to do was hit the local grocery store for the ingredients. Excitement and anticipation swell like balloons in my heart. Noah doesn’t know I’m planning to do anything special for his birthday. Hopefully, he’ll like what I’m making. I’ve baked for him before, but never a cake.
He’ll probably love it. He’s one of the most rewarding people to cook for. His appreciation is instant and honest. A blinding smile splits his gorgeous face and his eyes sparkle. Then he looks at me like I’ve given him the greatest gift possible.
It’s such a shocking yet lovely contrast—I used to bake for Dad, too, but his reaction was a grunty nod while his eyes stayed glued to whatever document he happened to be reviewing for work. He’d eat mechanically, but his expression always remained flat. I might as well have given him yellowed boiled brussels sprouts.
I put the finished cake into a box and drive to the beachfront cottage Noah got for his vacation here. It’s only ten minutes from my rental, and he invited me to stay there, rather than splitting my time between mine and his. He doesn’t know the reason I was at my place was the kitchen. His is cramped. Plus, I want this to be a complete surprise.
“Hey,” I say as I walk inside with the box. The windows are open, gauzy curtains swirling in the briny breeze as the ceiling fans spin lazily. The sound of waves slapping the white sand fills the house. “Noah? Hello?”
I put the cake on the glass-top dining table and head to the deck to check if he’s on the beach. He loves to swim and laze around on the sand to “work on his tan.” Funny since he’s already sun-bronzed. I’m the one who could use some extra pigmentation.
A soft groan comes from the deck. “Fuck…”
I head toward the sound. Noah is on one of the cushy deck loungers in nothing but swim trunks and sunglasses, showing off ridged abs and his surprisingly thick chest. His eyebrows are pinched together, forming a deep triple furrow. Sweat beads around his hairline, and his long fingers twitch. Despite the warm, slightly humid air, his complexion is slightly chalky. He murmurs something and jerks once, violently.
“Noah? Noah. Hey, it’s okay.” My voice is gentle, but loud enough that he can hear me over the surf. “It’s just a dream.” I put a hand on his shoulder, keeping the touch light and soft, so he doesn’t feel threatened as he pulls himself out of the nightmare.
He jackknifes up and swivels to sit sideways on the lounger. A hand snakes around my wrist and squeezeshard for a second before he lets go. He yanks his sunglasses off his face and blinks up at me. Three heartbeats pass before he opens his mouth. “Bobbi…”
“Wakey, wakey, pretty boy.” I smile, looking down at him and pretending the grip on my wrist didn’t hurt. He didn’t know what he was doing in his sleep, and there’s no reason to make a big deal out of it.
He exhales softly, his shoulders sagging as he pulls me down to him. “Wow.” His arms wrap around me, his heart thundering against my chest. “Thank God.”
“Bad dream?” I run my fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him.
“Yeah. It was… I was stuck in a dark tunnel and couldn’t find my way out. It was so weird because I knew it was a dream, but…”
Shock pokes a cold finger into my chest, and sympathy immediately fills my heart. I have a similar kind of nightmare, and it can leave me disoriented for a few moments after I wake up, especially if it’s still dark. “I sometimes have the same dream. If it’s a lucid one and I can tell I’m in a dream, I just breathe deeply a few times and remember to put my hand on the wall and follow it. I eventually hit the end, and the dream ends. Try it next time and see if it works.”
“Or I can just hear your voice to end the nightmare.” He seems almost fervent. Another effect of just waking up.
I laugh softly. “That, too.” I stroke the back of his neck, which is very tight. “Happy birthday.”
He pulls back. “Huh?”
“Happy birthday, Noah.” I smile, then kiss his cheek.
“You remembered…”
He sounds really surprised, which is odd. He’s wealthy and extroverted. Doesn’t he have a lot of people to celebrate his birthday? Make a big deal about it, even if he doesn’t want to?
Or maybe he just has shitty friends and family. You never know the pain people carry inside. “Of course. It’s an important date. And I got something for you. Come see!”
I tug at his hand, taking him inside where I pull the cover off the box. He looks down at my cute, delicious creation while I hover, waiting for his reaction.
Something jagged and complicated fleets through his eyes. Small goosebumps cover my arms...probably his mood after the nightmare is affecting me. Although we’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, our moods are unbelievably in synch. It’d be scary if it weren’t so exhilarating. I’ve never experienced anything like it—as though our hearts are tied to each other with a string that vibrates and communicates how we’re feeling.
“This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”
My belly flutters. “Seriously?”
He gazes at me. “Very seriously. Nobody has ever made me feel glad I was born.”
The air in my lungs seems to vanish. I never thought I could mean this much to someone. But when Noah’s looking at me like this, it’s like I was born to be the center of his universe.
“I know our time is limited, and…we initially agreed to a vacation fling,” Noah says. “But we don’t have to limit ourselves, do we?” His earnest eyes peer into mine. “I want more time with you, Bobbi.”
“Me too…but I don’t know about a long-distance relationship.” I want somebody local, somebody I can see regularly and potentially build a life with. I can’t just move from SoCal—I have friends and family there. And I don’t feel right asking Noah to make the sacrifice, especially when our relationship’s so new that he might be too wrapped up in emotion to think straight. When he’s back into real life and going through the everyday grind, things might change.
“Not an issue. I’ll move to wherever you are.” His hand wraps around mine, squeezes with determination and need—and maybe even a bit of desperation and longing.
It was the last two things and the fact that I was falling for him that had me nodding before I realized what I was doing. If I’d known our problem wouldn’t be physical distance but him not giving a damn, I would’ve never agreed to see him after our time in Mexico ended. Nor would I have been so happy that he turned out to live here in L.A.
I shake off the bittersweet memories as I place white and dark chocolate shavings on top of the white frosting the way Josie likes. I’m done being nice to people who don’t appreciate me.
Okay, no more thinking about Noah.I need to start picturing the perfect man, the one I want by my side. I pull the ring from around my neck and look at the sparkling blue stone as I conjure up the kind of man I’d love to have. Somebody reliable. Kind. Honorable.
Someone I can invite to hang out with my cousins. Hell, someone I can show to all my friends and know he can be part of my life for good.
Se?or Mittens sniffs past the food I laid out for him. I study his fur, which is even glossier than before. He’s definitely gained a bit of weight, too. Maybe he’s just gotten bored with the food I bought because it’s the same thing I’ve been feeding him forever. Is he hunting for little critters like he used to when he was a stray? He hasn’t done that since I took him in, but maybe that’s his way of varying his food options. I make a mental note to try a different brand of cat food on my way back from TJ’s.
“Be good.” I shake a finger at Se?or Mittens, who spreads out like a fat, cat-shaped rug on the floor. “No more hunting for food. You aren’t a stray anymore.”
A huge feline yawn.
“I’m responsible for you,” I remind him.
His tail twitches.
“I don’t want you to get into trouble and lose another toe.”
He gives me a reproachful look. You think I’m still the same silly cat who lost his toe?
“Yes.”
He stretches and closes his eyes for a nap. Or maybe he’s just decided to ignore me. I carry the boxes of baked goods out to my truck.
“Hey there,” comes a friendly voice as I shut the truck door.
I turn around and see a tall man in a tank-top and cargo pants standing a few steps away. Despite his lanky frame, his muscles are wiry, veins standing out on his forearms. He has friendly green eyes, and he’d be handsome if it weren’t for the terrible burn scars on his face. I maintain steady eye contact to avoid staring at the marred skin.
“Trey Underhill. I just moved in.” He indicates the house next to mine that used to belong to Mr. and Mrs. Park, who lived there since forever. I was wondering who they sold it to when they packed all their belongings into a large U-Haul last month. He extends a hand. The back of it is scarred, like his face, but he has a good grip. Strong and dry.
“Bobbi Bright.”
“I was hoping to say hello a little earlier, but you seem really busy.”
“I own a bakery, so I’m always up and out early.”
He nods. “Got a cat, too, right? He sometimes comes by.” Trey’s voice grows affectionate.
Very odd. Se?or Mittens doesn’t like to leave the house unless he has to, and he doesn’t like to hang out with neighbors. But maybe this man is the source of treats for Se?or Mittens, which might explain why he hasn’t been eating as much as he should at home.
“He gets along pretty well with Nero. My cat,” Trey adds. “Got him after my last tour in Afghanistan. My therapist said it would be good for me.”
“Thank you for your service.” Thank God I didn’t do anything to make him self-conscious about his scars. The people who fight for our nation deserve respect and gratitude.
“So anyway, I started cooking before I realized I’m out of salt. Mind if I borrow some?”
“Yeah sure.” I smile, then lead him to my place. He limps a little, dragging his right leg—probably another sign of the sacrifices he’s made for the country.
Se?or Mittens blinks with utter boredom when we walk in, then goes back to his nap. “Not the friendliest cat,” I say, half-apologetic my pet isn’t being sweeter to the man who’s fed him.
“Probably just sleepy.” Trey looks at him fondly, then glances down. “Interesting floor there.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. I don’t know what my parents were thinking. I’m going to replace the tiles soon.”
“Need help?”
“No. I got it. My cousin also volunteered, so…”
Trey nods, running his fingertips along the edge of the kitchen counter. “Well, you look like you can take care of the job. But if you need an extra hand…”
“Appreciate the offer.” I don’t plan to impose on him, especially when he’s limping.
“That couch looks nice and new.” His tone is slightly abashed, like he’s just realized he was critical of my kitchen floor.
I laugh to let him know it’s all good. “I bought it like two years ago after I got this place from my father.”
“What was wrong with the old one? Don’t tell me it matched those tiles.”
“Ha! No. It was just worn out. Plus, I didn’t want to dwell on the past. Felt it was time to move on.” Thinking about my dad is still uncomfortable, especially because we were sort of distant, and I sometimes struggle with the fact that I didn’t grieve for him the way I should, like dutiful daughters do in movies and books. I put a cup of salt in a Ziploc and turn to Trey. “This enough?”
“More than.” The corners of Trey’s eyes crease, although his smile is constricted due to the scars. He holds the bag up as he limps out the front door. “’Preciate it.”
I lock up, get in the truck and head to TJ’s, which is a two-bedroom house almost halfway between my place and Josie’s. The livable space isn’t that big—maybe two thousand square feet and smaller than the place Dad left me. TJ bought it for the big yard for Buster, although since Cassie wants children, he’ll have to get more living space at some point if he proposes. I’m pretty sure he will since she’s the sweetest, and he’s crazy about her. His mom adores her too, which means she’s a great catch. Auntie Bella is an excellent judge of character.
I climb out of the truck with the boxes of dessert and into the mouth-watering aroma of chicken wings. TJ must’ve decided to spoil me and taken out his charcoal grill, rather than half-assing it by baking them in the oven.
I walk inside the house and call out, “The pies are here!”
Buster greets me, tail wagging and barking with excitement. I kick the door shut before he can escape—he can get overly enthused when a car drives by and will chase it like a T-bone steak dragged on a string. But I shouldn’t worry too much. After giving me a doggy smile of welcome, he rushes to the backyard where the grill is, hoping TJ will give him a piece of chicken.
“Hey, long time no see.” Cassie comes out of the kitchen. A pretty brunette with friendly wide-set blue eyes, she has the nicest smile. She’s tiny—around five-four, but compensates for her height with a buxom figure I envy. She’s in a ribbed red tank top and faded denim shorts, long hair twisted into a knot at her neck. She takes the boxes from me.
“Oh my gosh, did TJ stop by your bakery?” Josie gives me a hug. She’s the exact opposite of TJ—pale and petite with long straight black hair and smiling gray eyes. Her demeanor is open and inviting. I don’t know how she doesn’t get a billion stalkers. The men who have seen TJ generally stay away, but he can’t be around her 24/7.
“A lot of people have stopped by.”
“Oooh, including Reggie? She came by Mom’s house to drop us invitations to her engagement party and wedding! Like we’d go.” Josie snorts.
“I thought you might.”
“I value my mental health too much. Mom isn’t going either.”
“Reggie wants me to make her an engagement party cake.”
“I hope you shoved a rolling pin up her ass.”
I chuckle softly. “That’d be cruel and unusual punishment…for my pin.”
Josie and Cassie chortle.
“Hopefully, she’ll be a decent mom,” I say.
Cassie looks confused. “Mom…?”
“Oh my God, did she tell you she’s pregnant?” Josie asks.
“Oh yeah. A couple of times. Made a point of rubbing it in,” I say.
“She’s sooooo not pregnant. She just gained weight.”
“How do you know?” Cassie says.
“Because her mom told me. I don’t know what the deal is, but every time she sees me, her verbal filter disappears. She thinks everything she tells me is confidential because I’m a therapist. She doesn’t understand the rule only applies to my patients.” Josie rolls her eyes.
And Reggie acted like she had something I never could. Shaking my head, I gesture at the boxes Cassie has put down on the counter. “Think I brought enough?”
TJ’s girlfriend shrugs. “Probably not. He can never get enough of your apple pies. If yours weren’t so great, I think I’d be insulted.”
“Why? Did you try to bake for him?” I ask with a laugh.
“Yes, and he was like, ‘It’s good, babe,’ and had exactly one slice and put the rest away.”
“Really?” TJ? Putting away uneaten pie? I can’t put the two ideas together.
“Uh-huh. And when I said he could have more, he said he was ‘saving it for later.’ But then when you brought an apple pie over, he ate the whole thing in one sitting. When I asked him about it, he tried to claim it was because you always bring pies that are about to go bad.”
Josie rolls her eyes. “He can’t lie for shit.”
“Yeah, but you want to be with a guy like that. Transparent is good.” If Noah had been more honest, I would’ve been spared a lot of heartache.
“True, true.”
“Who’s lying?” TJ says, coming into the kitchen. His black T-shirt strains as he leans over and kisses Cassie.
“We were just saying you suck at lying,” Josie says.
“I’m an honest man.” He takes out an ice-cold bottle of raspberry beer from the fridge and hands it to me. “Plus, I make up for it by being good at sex.”
I pop the beer open and take a good swallow right about the time Josie makes a barfing sound. Cassie just looks amused.
Buster joins us in the kitchen, nails clicking on the tiles and looking up at us like he hasn’t been fed in a month. I scratch behind his ears, making him smile and wag his tail. Meanwhile, TJ reaches for the baked apples I brought. They’re Buster’s favorite, and I always make sure to bring some when I come visit.
“Here you go.” TJ tosses one to the golden retriever. His eyes on the flying fruit, he jumps up to catch it, bumping the bottle on my hand. The beer spills all over my shirt, leaving a large reddish-brown stain in the center of the cream-colored fabric. Thankfully none of it gets on my shorts.
“Oh crap.” Cassie grabs a fistful of paper towels and hands them to me. I try to wipe off the beer, but it’s too late.
Buster is too busy with his apple to realize what he’s done. TJ cringes.
“Eww. I’m going to smell like I’m drunk.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Ah, geez. Okay, I got something you can borrow.” TJ gestures at me to follow him. We go to his bedroom, and he rummages in the closet. “None of my shit’s going to fit, but…”
“That’s fine. Who am I impressing here?”
“Buster?”
I laugh.
He emerges with a black T-shirt. “Smallest one I have. I only wore it last night to work out.”
“Uh-huh. That explains why it smells like Satan’s ass-crack.”
TJ snorts. I make a show of spraying the clothes with the eau de toilette Josie gave him last Christmas, then sniff. “Much better.”
“Har har. I’ll let you change.”
“Thanks.” He leaves, closing the door behind him, and I switch tops. TJ’s XXL shirt fits like a tent, of course. It says:
Hatorade
Why You Drinkin’ It?
This is his favorite. I grin as I come out.
“He loves you,” Josie says, noticing the shirt.
“I love everyone,” TJ says.
“Except the people who cross you.”
“Obviously. They’re assholes.”
Cassie laughs. “I love how consistently bad-ass you are.”
“It’s called being protective. Now you can add that to the list of my amazing qualities.”
“Protective and honest are important qualities,” I agree. Protectiveness is what made me like Noah more than I should have. He jumped into the fray when three lowlifes tried to mug me in Mexico. Most guys would’ve just pulled out their phones to record the fight.
“Unlike that Noah guy,” TJ says.
I give him a baleful look. “Really? You have to bring him up?”
“Noah?” Cassie’s eyes grow wide as she leans toward me eagerly. “Is this someone significant?”
“Tell me this is some other Noah,” Josie says. She knows all about my history with Noah. I had drinks with her a few weeks after the bakery opened and shared more than I should have. But when she hangs on your every word and nods and makes sympathetic noises, you can’t stop talking. The woman is a genius shrink.
“It’s the same Noah,” TJ clarifies.
“Wait, everyone knows about him but me?” Cassie says with a mock pout. “I feel left out.”
I put a hand over my face. “Oh my God, this is embarrassing.”
“What are you embarrassed about? He’s the fucking disgrace!” TJ’s always on my side, which makes me feel better. He thinks anybody who wrongs me is a disgrace. He can’t stand Reggie for the same reason. Of course, she’s just a bitch to begin with.
Josie starts in with an overview of my rather messed up relationship with Noah. Cassie gasps and nods in all the right places. She’s almost as good as Josie. Must be from dealing with little kids all the time.
Meanwhile, TJ brings in the chicken wings and takes my pies and cake to the table. I bring out plates and utensils, blushing as Josie recounts my romantic missteps. Josie and Cassie bring drinks to the table, and we all finally sit down.
“And now he’s back in her life,” TJ says when Josie’s finished telling the story.
Cassie’s eyes widen. “What? No!”
Josie turns to me. “Are you dating him again?”
“No. You know me better than that.” I grab a chicken wing and bite into it. The spicy sauce is perfect. I’ve begged TJ for the recipe, but he refuses. Says we can swap wings for pies.
“But he wants to?” Josie asks, reaching for the chicken.
“Well…yes. But that doesn’t mean I will.”
“Did he say why he didn’t come to the bakery opening?” Cassie takes a sip of her lemonade.
“No. And I’m sure he won’t. He didn’t really explain himself when he didn’t come to the hospital to pick me up after I got shot, either.”
“That motherfucker.” TJ bites into the biggest slice of an apple pie. He is a firm believer in “eat pie first.”
“Did he at least apologize?” Josie asks.
“Not really. I mean, he said he was sorry, but then ruined it by saying he didn’t want me to accept the apology if it meant never seeing me again. What the hell kind of contrition is that?”
“Shoulda shot him when you had the chance,” TJ says.
Cassie blinks. “Shot him?”
“I thought he was an intruder when I saw him a few weeks ago.”
“Perfect opportunity,” TJ says, shrugging.
“I’m not shooting someone just because I don’t like him! Besides, if I’d shot him, I’d have to see him even more because we’d be involved with the police and lawyers. Ugh. No, thank you.”
TJ gazes off into the distance. “Depends on where you shot him…”
“You deserve better.” Josie’s voice is firm. “You deserve somebody who’s going to be around, give you stability.” She knows about my complicated feelings about my father and his absences. She’s also aware that Mom was a bit hot and cold with me. She wasn’t abusive or anything, but there were times she looked at me like she didn’t recognize me. It never failed to make me uncomfortable, and recalling that now gives me that unsettled feeling again.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “I mean, even Reggie seems to have found the love of her life. I can, too.”