Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Cade
I was a wimp. Even though Missy was standing less than five feet from me and we were alone, I couldn’t bring up the subject of the kiss we’d shared.
The one that had knocked my brain sideways for hours—no, days—afterward. The one she hadn’t mentioned once.
Instead, I focused on the last of the cupcakes, smoothing the frosting with a motion I’d somehow mastered in the past hour. When I finished the final one, I set it on the tray and stepped back.
“Done,” I announced quietly.
Missy didn’t look up. She was piping a delicate pink rose onto a frosty white surface, her brows pulled together in that way that meant she was hyper-focused, blocking out everything else, including, apparently, the giant neon sign blinking above my head that said we needed to talk about that kiss.
I grabbed a stool and dropped onto it next to her, my elbows resting on my knees as I watched her work.
I watched the way she held her breath every time for the final twist. The way a strand of her hair kept falling forward into her face, no matter how many times she shoved it behind her ear.
I noticed the way her shoulders subtly rolled like she was trying to work out a knot after each cupcake was done.
Why hadn’t I noticed things like this before?
“Do your hands hurt?” I asked suddenly.
She blinked and looked a little startled, then she glanced down at her hands. “Not really. They’re used to the piping bags.” She flexed her fingers a few times. “It’s mostly my back that hurts, and my shoulders. I’ve been working and standing since four this morning.”
“That’s brutal.” I tilted my head, studying the tense line across her upper shoulders. “You should take breaks.”
She snorted lightly. “Breaks? In here? Something would catch on fire.”
“Only if I’m baking,” I joked.
That earned me a smile. “I take time off my feet when I can. Today wasn’t one of those days.”
A few minutes passed while she finished a row of lavender rosettes. I handed her fresh piping bags as she needed them, nudging full trays out of the way, doing anything to stay busy, to keep things from veering into the one conversation neither of us wanted to touch.
“So,” I said casually, “it looks like you’ve been slammed with orders.”
She nodded and, even though she looked tired, she smiled. “Wedding season is coming. And apparently spring flower cupcakes are the new obsession. Plus Mother’s Day orders are already rolling in.”
“That’s good, though. Business is thriving.”
“Yes,” she said and practically squealed with excitement. “It’s great. I am, however, looking forward to having a day off. I can’t believe I haven’t had one since before I opened.”
Which was exactly why I had invited her to the resort with me. At least, that was the lie I was telling myself.
I propped my elbow on the counter, pretending to study one of the cupcakes that I’d definitely over-frosted. “Do you really think you can get someone to cover for you?”
She paused mid-squeeze, the piping bag halting above the cupcake. “I think so. Meredith and Brit can handle the morning rush. I’ll ask Ashley to take Saturday afternoon.”
“Good.” I nodded slowly. “You deserve a break. Even if it’s just one night.”
We fell quiet again, both pretending to admire the cupcakes like we were cake cops on a stakeout, instead of talking about the topic hanging between us—the kiss, the spark, the shift that had rocked me hard enough that I still felt unsteady.
The silence stretched. Missy finished her last cupcake with a flourish.
“As promised,” she said, holding up one of the floral cupcakes. “Your payment for a job well done.”
I smiled and took the offered treat. “What about you?”
“I’ll get my reward when I’m done,” she said. “Do you want some milk to go with that?”
“Sure,” I said and waited while she poured a glass of milk. When she set it down in front of me, I realized that I was still a wimp.
While I enjoyed the cupcake and milk, I watched her carefully place the last cupcakes into boxes and move them into the walk-in refrigerator.
“You kissed me,” I blurted out when she sat down next to me with her own glass of milk and a cupcake.
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “You kissed me back.”
I smiled. “I did. Only because you kissed me first.”
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of the milk. “You sound about twelve right now.”
In truth, I felt like a teenager who had just had his first kiss.
Her comment about me sounding twelve only made my grin widen, but it didn’t do a damn thing to quiet the drum of nerves in my chest. I set the half-eaten cupcake down, wiped my fingers on a napkin, and finally looked her straight in the eyes.
“Missy… we should probably talk about it.”
She hesitated, her thumb tracing the rim of her milk glass. “Yeah, I figured we’d have to.”
“That kiss…” I exhaled slowly. “It wasn’t nothing.”
She didn’t move for a long moment, then nodded once, a small but certain move. “No. It wasn’t.”
I felt the confession in my bones, a warm, sharp ache.
“But,” she said quietly, “we’ve been friends our whole lives.”
The words were soft, but they hit me like a damn two-by-four. I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“And what if we try… something… and it goes wrong?” She folded her hands in her lap, staring at them as if they held the answer. “What if we mess everything up? I can’t, Cade, I can’t lose you. I can’t risk losing what we already have.”
My heart squeezed. I’d had almost the exact same thought a hundred times since the other night.
“Our friendship’s the most important thing in my life too,” I agreed, my voice a little rougher than I meant it to be. “You know that.”
She nodded again. She looked up at me, and I could see she was a little overwhelmed.
I rubbed the back of my neck, searching for strength I wasn’t sure I had. “If we crossed that line… it would change everything. No way around it.”
Was I trying to talk her out of it or myself?
“And if it didn’t work out?” she whispered.
The image flashed unwelcomed through my mind. No more holidays, birthdays, or vacations with her by my side. All those dinner and movie nights we enjoyed together. Not to mention all the shared morning coffees and text messages that made my day instantly better.
If we messed this up, there would be no more Missy and Cade.
That thought nearly hollowed me out.
“I don’t want to lose you. I can’t afford to,” I admitted. “Honestly? The thought scares the hell out of me.”
Her breath hitched, just barely, and she leaned back against the counter, looking exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with baking.
“Me too. So maybe…” She chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe we shouldn’t risk it.”
The words sliced through me sharper than I expected.
But the fear in her voice… I couldn’t push her. I wouldn’t.
“Yeah,” I forced out. “You’re right.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, hopeful in the most heartbreaking way, hopeful that I agreed, that she didn’t have to choose between safety and desire, that everything could stay the same.
I nodded to reassure her, even though nothing inside me felt remotely reassured.
“We’re good,” I said quietly. “We’re… us. Always have been.” I reached over and took her hand in mine like I had done hundreds of times.
Her shoulders finally relaxed, the tension slipping out of them. “Yes, always.” She smiled and squeezed my hand lightly. “I can’t lose this.”
“You won’t.” I meant it. Even if it killed me.
She nudged my knee with hers. “And we’re still going to the resort this weekend. That hasn’t changed.”
“Nope,” I smiled lightly. “That hasn’t changed.”
But deep down, buried where she couldn’t see it, I knew the truth.
I wanted her. Badly. More than I’d ever wanted anything. And pretending it was nothing, pretending I could manage it, pretending I could just go back to being her best friend…
That might be the biggest lie of all.
But I swallowed it down and gave her a reassuring smile, the kind that said it’s fine even though it wasn’t.
“I’m glad we talked,” she murmured.
“Yeah.” My voice felt tight. “Me too.”
But if it felt like we’d just built a fragile little wall between us. A wall I wasn’t entirely sure I could keep standing.