Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The coquette-styled bakery was an ode to lace and bows. With its palette of pink and white, Honesty felt like she’d been dropped into a vat of frosting.
She and Jaylyn sat at an ornate white wrought iron table with matching chairs. Thankfully, the uncomfortable seats had been outfitted with plush cushions—in pink and trimmed with white lace, of course.
Honesty admired the delicate hand-painted sign on the window next to their table. The backwards script read: Angel Cakes.
She’d heard of this bakery but had never been inside.
She’d assumed it provided sweet treats for weddings, bridal showers, and baby showers.
Maybe the occasional hyper-feminine birthday.
It turned out they baked for an array of events—including retirement parties, graduations, and Father’s Day—sans pink as needed.
“Is this place, like, throwing you way off your diet?” Jaylyn asked.
“I don’t diet. That is a common misrepresentation about people in my field—that we are vigilant about every bite we put into our mouths.
” Honesty had been asked every dietary question under the sun.
Was she gluten-free, vegan, or never ate refined sugar?
She’d lost count of the number of times she’d been passed over for lamb shanks or canapés because the host had assumed she’d never.
“For me, eating is about adding in more good stuff, not eliminating the bad stuff. Also, spoiler alert”—she whispered this next part—“there is no bad stuff. There are foods that fuel you and foods that cost you. It’s about balance. ”
“I love that. So you would eat an Oreo?”
“I would. I have.”
“And drink a regular Coke?”
“Pepsi, but yes.”
“Wow. Admirable.”
“Thank you.” Honesty sat a little taller. She wanted healthy food to be accessible to everyone. Not only the veterans that she looked forward to serving via her new nonprofit, but to anyone struggling with food noise, which was so prevalent these days.
Since it was early afternoon, Honesty accepted the offer of a cup of coffee. Jaylyn opted for decaf tea, saying that she’d had enough coffee today to “awaken the dead.”
“I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept having ideas for rings I want to design. I was up half the night sketching.”
Honesty had been admiring the skull ring on Jaylyn’s middle finger. “Your design?”
Jaylyn nodded.
“Dante said you were incredibly creative. It’s nice to hear you’re pursuing your passion.”
“Reagan’s engagement ring was hidden by six pounds, seven ounces of the cutest baby on the planet, but hers is a design of mine as well.”
“Is that what you do? Custom jewelry design?”
Jaylyn seesawed her head back and forth. “Sort of. I don’t actually do anything for a living,” she murmured to her cup of tea.
“Do you need to?” Honesty winced. “Sorry if that was rude.”
“That’s a fair question. And no, I don’t need to work for money. It’s more…finding my purpose. Pursuing a creative outlet.”
“I understand. Cooking can be very creative.”
“So can ordering takeout,” Jaylyn joked.
“I’ve done a bit of everything. I jumped in to help Chloe and Zander decorate their new apartment.
And I proofread Brody’s book and offered my feedback.
But as far as having something of my own…
” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I think I’m afraid to commit. ”
That seemed to run in the family, but Honesty kept that thought to herself.
“Well, what do you like to do most?”
“Everything?” Jaylyn smiled. “I have created custom jewelry, learned how to paint modern abstracts. I’ve curated vintage clothing, and I’ve sculpted clay statues. I tried to sew.” She made a face. “I can’t sew.”
“You’re multi-talented, then. I have always been transfixed by food. How it can heal the body, how to put the most nutrients onto a plate. I had to decide how to combine my love of food and business.”
“And macros,” Jaylyn added.
“Not my jam. It’s too exact, and not how I think. But I can’t teach intuitive nutrition.”
“Oh, I don’t know. If people pay me for a tarot reading, you can teach intuitive nutrition.
” Jaylyn moved her thumb over the delicate floral pattern painted on her teacup.
“Until last night, I thought I’d never narrow down my passions.
And suddenly, I knew what I wanted to do.
” She fanned a hand in front of her as if seeing the idea in lights.
“An entire jewelry collection. Something edgy but whimsical. Heavy. Chunky. But classy.”
“Sounds amazing.” Honesty reached for Jaylyn’s hand. She ran her thumb over the skull ring’s diamond eyes. “You obviously have a knack for unique pieces. Where do you start with something like that?”
“That’s just it. Beyond sketching and hiring a jeweler to make a one-off piece, I know virtually nothing.
Here I sit with an enviable amount of resources and connections at my disposal, and I’m afraid to take the first step.
What if I flake out? What if I am neck-deep into the collection and then decide that painting is my thing?
What do I do then? Bail? Sorry everyone,” she announced to an invisible audience, “no jewelry for you!”
“You are allowed to change your mind. It’s your creation. In the business world, success is rarely a straight line. Sometimes you have to stumble around before you find your niche.”
“What if I’m tired of stumbling?”
Honesty didn’t have a good answer for that. She still felt like she was stumbling—in her business and in her life.
Jaylyn sipped her tea before setting the cup on its saucer. “Thanks for coming with me today.”
“You’re welcome.” Honesty was touched. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but hanging out with Jaylyn had been fun. Illuminating, even.
The owner of the bakery came out with a tray of samples. There was white cake, lemon cake, a chocolate on chocolate cake, and… “This one tastes like tiramisu. This is round one, by the way.”
“Thank you, Rose.” Jaylyn reached for her fork. “How many rounds are there?”
“Reagan limited you to three.”
After she walked away, Jaylyn confessed, “I requested five rounds.”
“Five rounds of four types of cake? That would have been twenty slices to taste.”
“Reagan is more practical than I am.”
Chocolate on chocolate won round one, with lemon as a close second. If they all tasted this good, deciding wouldn’t be easy.
“Good for you for asking Dante for help,” Jaylyn said as she pushed her half-eaten cake to the side. “You didn’t freeze up with analysis paralysis like I did.”
“I can’t take all the credit. After we were photographed at the event, we were in the press. My assistant Gabby said it was the perfect excuse to reach out and ask for help. Typically, I suffer in silence.”
“Girl, same.”
“If Gabby hadn’t pushed me, I never would have asked. Who reaches out to their ex-boyfriend for business advice?”
“You?” Jaylyn laughed. “I think we were all wondering about that when we heard he was meeting with you. Dante isn’t the warmest and fuzziest of my brothers.”
“Who does that honor belong to?”
Jaylyn thought for a minute before deciding, “I think Brody. He’s the most demonstrative.”
Honesty forked another bite of lemon cake into her mouth. “Do you think Dante belongs in Chicago?”
“I think he belongs with his siblings. We’ve roosted here—everyone but him.
Since he’s taken over that foundation, he’s been so damn serious.
It’s like he has this duty to fulfill. He needs to let go of some of that duty and have a good time.
But what do I know? I’m having a good time and lack any sense of duty.
” She chuckled. “There should be a penalty for using the word duty that many times in a row.”
The second round of cakes was an array of colors and flavors. After they’d each had bites of strawberry mousse, peach, pistachio, and lavender—the conversation turned to the wedding.
“I can’t believe they haven’t set a date.” Honesty couldn’t imagine planning a wedding with no idea when it would happen. Wasn’t that rule number one when it came to weddings? To set a date? Maybe billionaires didn’t do it that way.
“Those two bring new meaning to flying by the seats of their pants.”
“Dante said he was best man. Is he sticking around until they wed or is he going to fly in for the ceremony?”
The cake Jaylyn had lifted to her open mouth hovered there for a second before she put her fork down. “Would you like him to stick around?”
Rather than answer, Honesty tried another bite of lavender cake. She chewed, swallowed, and decided, “This is too floral. Strawberry is the clear winner.”
Jaylyn stared at her wordlessly.
“I want him to do whatever is best for him,” Honesty said. “I think you and I both know that’s what he will do anyway.”
Jaylyn emitted a delicate snort. She tasted the strawberry cake again and then agreed that it was the best of this round.
“Why do you want him to move to Chicago so badly?”
“One by one I watched my older brothers grow up and leave. Eventually, it was down to me. I was alone with Dad. Which is fine. But also, not as fun. I miss being around my brothers. Even if Christmas was weird with all four of our moms and dad under one roof.”
Honesty couldn’t relate to Jaylyn’s rare upbringing. “What’s your mom like?”
“The Great Vera Gray? She’s the coolest. Taught me how to smudge.” Jaylyn mimed waving a bundle of smoking sage. “She embraces her unique nature. But stability and roots?” Jaylyn shook her head. “Not her thing.”
Honesty was finally seeing the bigger picture.
As the youngest, Jaylyn had watched Zander, Brody, and Dante fly the coop, leaving her behind.
She had chosen to stay with her father—who had been stable in his own way—instead of her mom, who sounded even less structured than Octavius.
“So you felt alone. And now you don’t want to be alone. ”
Ever the tough girl, Jaylyn shrugged her shoulders.
“Me trying to get the band back together is less about my loneliness than it is about taking advantage of the time we have right now. There’s no sense in Dante living on the other side of the country when he has a niece and is going to be in at least two weddings—three if you count mine. ”
“Are you getting married?”
“God, no,” Jaylyn said with an adamant shake of her head. “I barely date. But maybe someday. Don’t count me out yet.”
“I would never count anyone out.” Not Jaylyn Crane. Not herself. Life had a funny way of flipping on a dime.
“That said, who wants to start something when endings can be so hard? Women are the ones left putting the pieces back together after the dude does whatever he wants. Down with the patriarchy.” She raised a fist. “Is that the way you felt when Dante left? Sad for it to end, and left to put the pieces back together alone?”
“Um…” Honesty wasn’t sure what to say. Jaylyn didn’t mince words, that was for damn sure.
“Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. Sometimes I blurt out what’s on my mind, without thinking it through.”
“I admire your being forthright. Not many people are. Being sad and feeling like you’re in pieces doesn’t have to be the story we tell ourselves.
What if we allowed an ending to simply be an ending?
What if we treasure the memories from the time that has passed, without piling a bunch of bullshit on top of it. ”
“Ha! Okay, fair enough.” Jaylyn regarded Honesty for a beat. “You are very wise. Dante is crazy for letting you get away. He probably wouldn’t have if he wasn’t so goddamned duty-bound.”
“Later we’re going to play a drinking game, and you have to do a shot every time you say duty.”
That made Jaylyn laugh.
They moved past the Dante conversation and onto round three, and which cake would suit Reagan best. As much as Honesty could have argued that she was whole and complete without Dante around, there was also a part of her that didn’t want him to leave.
She wasn’t sure if she had truly forgiven him for leaving. Had the insight that Jaylyn provided changed her mind?
Maybe.
She’d learned that his loyalty and control wasn’t about him remaining cool and unaffected. His loyalty was more ingrained. He was committed to helping others. To being the hero.
That hero complex had cost him. She was beginning to suspect that he gave to others because it was easier than taking for himself.
Or maybe it wasn’t easier, but safer. If he stopped to ask what he wanted for himself, would he choose her?
Or like he’d done eight years ago, would he run toward the next crisis and make himself useful?
No matter what happened, Honesty could handle it, and better than she had handled it the first time. As history had taught her, there was one person she could always count on.
Herself.