Chapter 11
Claire
A date.
Ryan. On a date.
I think what’s throwing me off, more than the fact that he’s going on a date, was my initial reaction to that news. When he told me yesterday, it was a combination of “What in the world?” and “Not my Ryan.”
My Ryan.
I tell myself I’m not thinking about it that way because I’m jealous.
It’s just weird. We’ve been friends for almost three years now, and this whole time, he’s been single.
I haven’t heard him mention a date once.
It wasn’t really something we discussed, but with the amount of times I’ve complained about Zach, I didn’t think our romantic lives were off the table.
Not that there’s much romance going on in mine.
But still. I keep envisioning Ryan opening the door for his date, making her laugh over dinner, and it just fills me with this icky feeling mixed with a slight rage that I can’t explain.
Instead of dwelling on it, I focus on Friday’s task—cake tasting, our first attempt at wedding planning.
It was supposed to just be for me, Zach, and our moms. But when our dads heard there would be free cake—is it really free if you’re expected to order a giant wedding cake at the end of it? —they insisted they tag along, too.
“Hear me out,” my dad says as we walk in the door of Fairy Tale Bakery, a local bake shop with cream walls and white tables. “Peanut butter chocolate.”
Mom glances around the shop, but no one is behind the counter. She bends down to peruse the different treats. “I already submitted our requests,” she says without looking at my dad.
Dad lowers himself beside her. “And?”
“And…peanut butter chocolate is one of them.” She straightens and smirks at me as the dads hit each other with a big high five.
Mom shakes her head at them, but it’s all in good fun. “Of course I ordered that. It’s your favorite.”
“You’re the best.” Dad gives Mom a little squeeze around the waist, causing her to yelp and laugh. I grin at the two of them and look over at Zach, but he’s busy on his phone and not paying attention to the display in front of us.
I realize my mom never asked for my request, which would have been a white cake with strawberries. Hopefully there’s something similar here.
“Hello!” Julie calls out. “We’re here for our appointment!”
A slim blonde woman comes through the swinging doors. “Bonjour. The Beaumont family, yes?” she asks in a thick French accent. She frowns at us. “The reservation is for four people.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” Mom says, grinning apologetically. “Our husbands wanted to join the fun.”
“Hmph.” The woman is not impressed. She gives a little grunt and mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like Americans. “Well, take a seat.” She gestures at the table in the cramped corner that very clearly is only for four people, and I squirm a little.
“I can wait outside,” I say. “If it’s too much. I trust your opinions, and—”
“That’s ridiculous!” Julie says, pulling my arm and plopping me down in a chair. “You’re the bride. No one else’s opinions matter as much as yours.”
“Oh.” I swallow hard, a little uncomfortable with that statement. Really? My opinion matters the most? Hello, pressure.
Zach sits next to me, still on his phone, and the dads gesture for our moms to take the two remaining seats. “I don’t need to sit,” Dad says. “I just need cake.”
The baker grunts again and mutters more words under her breath, but I think this time they’re in French. “My name is Emily,” she says aloud. “I’ll be back in a minute with your samples.” She looks at us sitting at the table. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”
“I’ll take tea,” I say.
“Coffee for us,” my mom says, gesturing at herself and Julie.
Zach stays silent, and I gently put a hand on his arm. “Hey. Do you want some tea or coffee?”
He sets down his phone and looks at me, as if he’s just realizing where we are. “Tea. Sure.”
“I’ll take a coffee, too,” Dad adds.
Emily glares at my dad. “Two teas, and TWO coffees.” A whoosh of air hits us as she spins around and heads back into the kitchen.
“Yikes,” Mike says. “Way to start off on the right foot.”
“Cake,” Dad says emphatically to Mike. “Just think about the cake.”
Mike hums, and I grin. I look back at Zach, who’s no longer on his phone.
“So, this is it!” I exclaim. “First official wedding business.”
He grins at me. “I’m sure you’re super excited to get started.”
“I am.”
He rubs my shoulder, a little rough, but it’s what I’ve come to expect from Zach. He was a football player and track star in high school, so he comes across as the All-American boy. Sometimes that means he’s not super emotional or tender, but I’m used to it.
“Here we are,” Emily says, emerging with a tray of hot drinks.
She sets them down in front of us at the table, then glares at our dads.
Reaching over Mom’s head, she pulls an album down from a bookshelf.
“Here are some of the cakes we’ve made in the past. Look through and tell me if you like any of them. ”
I expect her to hand the album to my mom, but she hands it to me. Oh, yeah. I’m the one making decisions, right?
I open the album and take a sip of my tea while the moms add some cream and sugar to their coffees. Mom tries to sneak a peek at the album, so I hold it between us.
As I flip through the pictures, I realize more and more how little I’ve actually thought about the wedding. I have no idea what colors I want, or how to decorate, or even what type of venue we should have. My heart beats a little faster, and my stomach flutters. Is this…excitement? Nerves? Anxiety?
“This one is pretty,” Mom says, pointing at a cake with alternating square and circular tiers. Each tier has a deep red ribbon around the base, and the sides are decorated with purple squiggles. I just nod.
“Or how about this one?” she asks, pointing at a topsy-turvy cake that looks like it’s about to topple over, decorated with blue swirls.
I shrug and show it to Zach.
“That’s pretty cool,” he says.
“Are we hoping for ‘cool’ on our wedding day though?” I ask.
“Sure, why not?” he says.
I press my lips together, trying to imagine a cake like this as the centerpiece of our wedding.
“Claire, hon?” Julie asks, and I look up at her. “Do you already have an idea that you were hoping for?”
“Um, not really.” I look down at the album and flip through a couple more pages. “I guess I hadn’t thought much about the details yet.”
“That’s okay,” she says, event planner mode activated. “You can just get some ideas today. And we can pick out the flavors. That’s not going to make a huge impact on the rest of the wedding.”
Relieved, I nod and sigh. Now I can look through the pictures without feeling the weight of decision-making on my shoulders.
“Here we are,” Emily says, coming out with a tray with a plate and forks. The plate has four pieces of cake on it, one for each flavor, and they’re tiny. I mean, TINY. Like, max three bites for each slice of cake.
“Oh.” Mike says behind us as Emily sets down the plate.
She gives him an evil grin, deliberately setting a fork in front of me, Zach, Mom, and Julie.
Then she looks back at me. “The first here is a lemon cake with cream cheese frosting. This one is a white cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate frosting. This here is the chocolate peanut butter, and the last one is red velvet.” She nods her head at us. “Enjoy.”
She leaves us to try our minuscule portions of cake. I’m disappointed to see there isn’t a white cake with strawberries, but I guess the raspberry jam is close enough for now.
“Well, let’s dig in!” Julie says, picking up her fork.
“Here, Dad,” I say, turning around and handing my fork to him. “Try the peanut butter chocolate.”
“You haven’t even tried any yet,” he protests.
“It’s okay. I know you’re dying for cake.”
He furrows his brow at me, and I know he wants to say no, but his gaze switches to Zach. “Hey! Save some for the rest of us!”
“Huh?” Zach asks, his mouth full of cake. And not just any cake, but the peanut butter chocolate.
My dad and Mike groan. There’s just a smear of peanut butter frosting and a couple chocolate crumbs left.
“Let’s go to Starbucks,” Mike says to Dad. “They’ll give us coffee and pastries.”
Dad sighs heavily and follows Mike out the door.
“Definitely that one,” Zach says, pointing at the plate. “That was delicious.”
At least he’s involved in the process, I guess. Our moms just shake their heads and each take a small bite of the red velvet.
I take a small portion of the lemon cake and pucker my lips. “Okay, not that one.”
“This one is really good,” Mom says, pointing with her fork at the red velvet. I try a piece and nod. It’s a little too sweet for my taste, but I know red velvet is a crowd-pleaser.
“We should take a picture,” Julie says. “It’ll help you remember the flavors when you can see a picture of yourself sitting here.”
“Oh, sure.” I take out my phone and snap a picture of the plate, with the missing peanut butter chocolate—supposedly delicious, according to Zach—and the small pieces of the others.
“Here, let me get a picture of you,” Julie says, reaching for my phone.
I hand it over to her as Zach stands with his vibrating phone.
“Sorry, gotta take this call,” he says.
“Oh.” I watch him leave, a little disappointed.
“No matter. I’ll take a picture of you,” Julie says.
I pick up my teacup by the handle and grin at the camera. Julie snaps the picture and smiles widely. “That’s adorable.”
She hands me the phone, and I have to admit, it’s a pretty cute picture.
My initial reaction is to send it to Ryan. That would have been a normal thing for me to do. But something about him going on a date has messed with my head and makes me second-guess that decision.
Stop being weird, Claire.
Shaking it off, I type up a message to Ryan and attach the picture.
Me
Having fun trying cakes!
My finger hovers over the send button before I decide to get out of my own head and press it. There. He’ll have to respond now. Besides, I’m just imagining this weirdness, right?
But then I scroll up the messages with Ryan and see the evidence right in front of me that we’re not texting as much as before. So I’m not making it up. It’s clear as day. All his messages are one word or super short answers. When did it all stop?
The messages at the baseball game.
When I got engaged.
My heart sinks a little. Am I losing Ryan as my best friend?
“Hey, what did I miss?” Zach asks, sliding back into his seat.
“Not much,” I reply, quickly locking my phone. “Just a picture with some cake.”
“Oh, let me in on that!” He slides in next to me, roughly slinging his arm over my shoulder and making me jump in my seat.
Julie pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of us, and Zach presses a kiss to my cheek.
But I can’t shake the sinking feeling I had when I realized my instincts were right, and my friendship with Ryan isn’t the same as it was.