Chapter 43 Epilogue Welcome to Roseberg
— ONE Y EAR L ATER —
“I’m starting to think this surprise of yours is not anal sex,” Ian says as I pull him forward, his eyes closed and a wide smile on his face.
“It’s not,” I confirm. “And I told you that the minute you asked. Which was two seconds after I told you I had a surprise for you.”
He firmly nods. “Yup. Don’t need a summary. Need my surprise.”
With a sigh, I look back and, satisfied, turn to Ian. “Okay. Open your eyes.”
Slowly and dramatically, he does. First one, then the other. With a puzzled expression, he looks behind me, then to our left and right. “What… what am I missing?”
“Something huge,” I say as I point my thumb behind me.
“The joke’s almost too easy.” He squares his shoulders, then his eyes squint. “Hmm. I… That’s a ridiculous, ridiculous name.”
Rubbing my forehead, I glance at the horse fountain behind Ian. Water is pouring down from the sculptures’ mouths into a large pool underneath, and around it a slew of tourists are throwing coins in the water. Ian did it, too, of course. He said he wished for anal sex, which is indisputable proof that the fountain does not work.
“It’s because, if you spell desserts backward…” I sigh loudly. “Never mind. Let’s go in.”
We open the door, which has the logo of a girl in a pink dress under the bakery’s name, and, once inside, my trained eyes quickly spot the pastries behind the counter. The whole place is beautiful, with white counters and warm wooden floors. Plants hang overhead, and the back wall is a chocolate waterfall I’ll definitely need to keep Ian away from.
“I love my surprise. Love it. I have no idea what it is, but boy, am I grateful.” Ian’s lips kiss the top of my ear. “Thank you, beautiful.”
Rubbing his arm, I explain, “This is the place that made Barb’s cake. The bakery you kept asking about?”
“Oh.” His face crumples. “Well, I didn’t really eat that cake. But I definitely saw it.” He tilts his head. “Maybe. From afar. It was white.”
“No, it was not.” I tug his hand and pull him closer to the counter. “It’s about time you try it. And I know you don’t love cake, but you were also sure mushrooms were as disgusting as peas, and now you love them.”
“I do love them,” he considers. “I’m in. Let’s get cake. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for cake.” Pointing at a slice of Black Forest, he hums. “That one looks good.”
“I booked a nuptial cake tasting for us. Only lactose-free cakes.”
Ian’s confused eyes meet mine. “I’m pretty sure we’re already married. You’re not going to make me do it twice, are you?”
I chuckle, thinking of our wedding day. I still don’t know how Ian managed not to frown once . Not at the speeches, which were awkward at best; not at the props for the wedding pictures; not at the monogrammed cookies or the first dance. He smiled and looked as happy as he could ever be and totally didn’t let me throw the bouquet.
Which worked out just fine, because I handed it to Martha.
“No, no other wedding.” I dreamily look into my husband’s blue eyes. “We’ve had enough weddings for a lifetime.”
“More than a lifetime.” He leans closer, his nose grazing mine. “But I’d marry you every day, forever, if that’s what you wanted.”
I grin and close my eyes as his lips find mine. I love it when we smile mouth to mouth. His tongue gently grazes my own, his hand on my neck as his thumb brushes my cheek, and the fountain might actually be a wishing well, because I’d give him anything right now. Anything. Even anal.
“Errrr… Hello? ”
I flinch away from Ian, then look down at the tiny human next to us. She has gorgeous dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes and is wearing a shirt with the bakery’s logo. I look left and right for the owners— parents. The parents. I’m sure children aren’t supposed to be alone when they are this small.
Ian crouches down, a big smile on his handsome face. “Well, finally, there you are. I was starting to think nobody worked in this place. We’d like one hundred slices of cake to go, please.”
“One hundred?” she asks, a giggle sputtering out of her lips. Obviously, Ian is a kids’ person. “That’s too much cake!”
“Oh, really ?” he says playfully. “Excuse me, but it looks to me like you could use a sales class or two. Rule number one: never tell your customers to buy less cake.”
Throwing a curious look at me, she hooks her finger into her mouth. “I don’t work here,” she explains.
“You don’t ?” Ian’s eyes widen.
“No. It’s my dad’s work.”
“Ooooh.” Ian nods. “What’s your name?”
She hesitates, giving him a shy smile as she rocks from one foot to the other. “Nevaeh. Like Heaven but backward.”
“Wow. My name, backward, is just Nai.”
“That’s silly.”
“It really is.” Ian stands, then turns to me and whispers, “What’s with the backward-words thing?”
Just as I shrug, someone enters the bakery from the back. We both turn around and, holy fuck, that is one hell of a handsome man right there. Dark hair and dark eyes, just like his daughter. But he’s also tall, wide-shouldered, and covered in flour. Which helps.
“Good afternoon.” His eyes dart to Nevaeh. “What did Daddy say about greeting customers alone?” She smiles mischievously and runs to the back, and only then do the man’s eyes meet mine. “Sorry for making you wait. It’s flu season and I’m out of personnel.”
I give him a quick shake of my head, but I’m still flabbergasted that a man this handsome exists. I mean, Ian’s just as gorgeous, but I’ve had time to get used to his beauty. This is hitting me all at once.
“You, sir, are one very handsome man,” Ian says. “Are you seeing that?” he adds as he turns to me with a surprised look.
Oh, Ian.
“Excuse my husband ,” I say when the man’s eyes narrow into a dangerous glare. “He’s… he has no filter. Just says anything that enters his brain.”
After a quick glance at me, the man focuses on Ian again.
“He—” I cup the back of Ian’s head. “There’s just a big, happy daisy field in here.”
The man smiles at me, and releasing a deep breath, I relax a little. I’m ready to bet he isn’t the one who usually handles clients, or this place wouldn’t be as famous as it is. “What can I help you with?”
Ian points to the board. “My wife booked a nuptial cake tasting.”
“Congratulations,” the man mumbles. “Wait—your wife? Are you getting married again?”
“No, we—it’s…” I shake my head. “I doubt you’ll remember, but you made a nuptial cake for my friend about two years ago. Barbara Wilkow.”
“Of course.” The man’s smile is genuine now. “Strawberry shortcake and white chocolate ganache with pink sugar paste.” When my brows raise, he shrugs. “I have a great memory.” His eyes dart from Ian to me, and he nods. “Well, sit down wherever. I’ll check your order and bring over the first samples.” Turning around, he approaches the coffee machine. “Can I offer you something to drink in the meantime?”
The door opens, the bell overhead ringing as a woman comes in like fury. “ Sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry. I know, I’m sorry.” She approaches the man and kisses him on the lips. “Please don’t go all Mr. Asshole on me: Marina needed—”
“Marina knows how to handle herself far too well, and you’ve been overworking yourself.” He leans closer and returns the kiss. It’s not the passing kiss of a couple who’ve been together for years and are just saying hello. No, sir. It’s a full, loving kiss that almost makes me uncomfortable but stops just before it does. It’s full of love, full of—
I turn to Ian, and he’s wide-eyed, staring at me. These two are that couple! The couple at the Quinns’ wedding! The way they look at each other is just the same as how Ian stares at me. And I’m sure it’s how I stare at him.
Once the woman faces us, she smiles wide. “You must be Amelie and Ian. Wedding cake tasting, right? Can I get you anything to drink?”
“We’re good, thank you,” I say. We walk through the bakery, and I see beyond a pair of glass doors a gorgeous courtyard garden with tall columns and vines wrapped around them all the way to the skylight on the roof.
Turning to Ian, I smile excitedly. “Want to sit outside?”
“Martha’s planning a party for her anniversary,” I tell Ian as he looks worriedly at a coffee cake slice. I’m almost done with my half, but I’m used to him taking some time to try new things when it comes to food.
“Oh. In Creswell?”
I nod, then take a sip of water. “Two weeks from now.”
“Cool. We can also stop by and see your dad. It’s been a while.”
Since our wedding. We’ve kept in contact, mostly through texts, apart from his birthday and mine, when we spoke on the phone. Though I’d like to say things are all better, I’m not sure they’ll ever be. Not completely. “We would pass through Mayfield too.”
Ian’s eyes narrow, and he sticks his fork into the cake and shoves it into his mouth without a second thought. Interesting. Bringing up unpleasant topics speeds up the cake-eating process.
“Hmm—nope.” He spits it into a napkin, then dramatically sticks his tongue out. “I’m not having this at my wedding.”
Fair enough. I was probably shooting a little too high with the hazelnuts and cinnamon. “More for me,” I say, and pull the plate closer. Moving a slice of red velvet in front of him, I nod in encouragement. “You’ll love this one.”
“Hmm.”
Okay, so I probably shouldn’t have mentioned his father. It’s a recipe for bad moods lately. The thing is, I see the way it affects him. I can pinpoint the exact moment William comes to his mind, because his eyes fill with grief and nostalgia. I hate to see him like that, and, just as importantly, I don’t think his father will ever stop harassing me with his apology texts unless they have a conversation.
“You can take your time,” I say softly as I set my fork down. “But at some point you’ll have to talk to him, right? Forgive and forget?”
“Yes. And it’s not like I don’t miss him. But every time I think about talking to him, I remember what he did to you, and…”
I notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, then the thick emotions in his eyes, and put my hand on his. “In his twisted way, he did it to protect you.”
“I know he did, but…” He blinks faster, his jaw tensing. “I need more time.”
“No Mayfield, then. Not until you’re ready.”
I set the empty plate aside, then dig into the red velvet cake. I’m glad I didn’t have any lunch, because I won’t be leaving this table until all eight slices of cake are gone. I might lick the plates too. This guy really knows his baking.
“So where’s our honeymoon bringing us next?”
I smile, tilting my head as I think of potential stops between Roseberg and Creswell. “There’s Willow Falls. I was just reading an article about this amusement park they opened nearby.”
“Sold,” he says immediately, his bad mood only a memory now. “We can leave tomorrow.”
Just as he digs his fork into the red velvet cake, the door to the bakery opens, and Heaven, the baker’s wife, comes out with a tray filled to the brim. She distributes the orders around the courtyard, which is nearly full of customers even though it’s almost closing time, then comes over to our table. “How are you guys doing?”
I turn to Ian, who looks like he’s about to spit out another piece of cake, and widen my eyes in warning until he swallows. “We’re doing great. Your husband is a marvelous baker.”
“It makes up for his grumpiness.”
Using the occasion to excuse myself, I walk back into the bakery, where Shane, the baker, is serving a client. He turns to me. “Bathroom’s the first door to the right.”
“Oh, no. I don’t need the bathroom. I actually wanted to…” His dark eyes pierce mine, and I lose track of my thoughts for a second. This guy can be intimidating. “I wanted to compliment you on your desserts. I worked as a chef for fifteen years and I don’t think I’ve ever eaten better cakes than the ones you served us today.”
He blushes slightly as he closes a paper box, hands it to the man waiting on the other side of the counter, and says, “Thank you.” Then, turning, he gives me a warm smile and says, “And thank you .”
“You’re welcome.”
I approach the counter, studying the pastries behind the plexiglass. There are rows of his famous homemade Oreos, and though I’ve never tried one, I’ve seen them on social media plenty. They went viral a while back, and they’ve been all over the web since.
“Where do you work?”
“Hmm?”
“You said you’re a chef?” He cocks a brow. “Where?”
“Oh, not right now. Ian and I plan to open something together one day, but… we’ve been enjoying being married and free for a while. He’s working as a consultant here and there, and I’m…” I shrug, smiling dreamily. “I’m on a mission to have him try all vegetables at least once.”
Shane settles both hands on the counter. “I take it he’s not a chef.”
“Definitely not.” I look at the croissants. “European butter?”
“Of course. European dessert.”
With a smile, I nod. I like Shane.
I walk back to the garden, where Heaven has taken my seat at the table, and it sounds like they’re talking about movies. As soon as Ian sees me, his smile widens, and his eyes take on their usual glimmer once they settle on me. It’s unmistakable. “Hey, wife. Is everything all right?”
“I just needed to compliment the chef, because these cakes are…” As Heaven stands, I gesture to her to sit down again. “Please, stay.”
When Ian pulls me onto his lap, Heaven smiles. “Ian was telling me you’re a chef.”
“I am, yes.”
“You know, Shane and I actually own this building, and there’s this property that recently got vacated. A restaurant.”
“Really?”
Heaven nods. “Right there.” She looks to the left, and once I turn to the spot she’s pointing to, my breath hitches and shivers run through my body. And Ian’s reaction must be similar, because I feel his chest rise sharply against my back, then slowly fall.
The restaurant is empty, and the insignia on top is gone too; only the screws left. But on the large window facing the garden, there’s the illustration of a big, beautiful, yellow… daisy.
I twist, my fingers tightening on the back of Ian’s neck, and dragging my eyes away from destiny itself, I focus on him. There’s a single tear rolling down his cheek, but as he blinks, another one falls.
I kiss his cheek, then his forehead, the tip of his nose, his eyes. Until he looks at me, and I need no words to know.
Turning to Heaven, I nod. “We’ll take it.”
THE EN—
New notification.
THE END