17. Paige
It is most likely a business will fail within the first five years of its existence. A lot of people think it’s just the first year that matters, but it’s not. It’s the first five years. And that kind of pressure is almost crushing when you have hinged your entire financial stability on fulfilling this dream. A dream, which depends on your capability to fulfill other people’s dreams…
Like their wedding.
I’ve booked a total of three weddings in the year that Events by Paige has been in business, the first one obviously having been Aspen and Katie’s wedding, the second one that’s already come and gone with a happy couple, and my most recent booking that I am currently at a cake tasting for, by myself.
Not all weddings can be as easy as my first one was, with a laid-back bride and groom who had a small budget and were incredibly grateful for all the things I helped them with and was able to get them at a discount. Or even as relaxed as Katie and Aspen are because the only thing they want for their wedding day is to get married. No, not all of them are like that and this wedding has proven that time and time again as I’ve bent over backwards to get the bride everything she’s requested… no, demanded.
I get it, a large part of my job is the customer service part of it and dealing with nightmare clients. Because even nightmare clients’ reviews are important.
This is just the first nightmare I’ve had to deal with.
So, no, when I arrived at the bakery that I had to call in a favor to get a tasting for, and the bride and groom were nowhere to be found, I found myself in one of those unique positions of despising my job. After the big stink I made in order to get this tasting, I couldn’t rightly cancel it now. Not when I know the baker made special mini versions of their ideal cake for this tasting. Anxiety wracks my body as I step into the bakery, unsure how I’m going to explain this away while remaining in the baker’s good graces, because of all the bakeries in Buffalo, this is not the one I want to have a bad reputation with.
Do they have blacklists for party planners?
“Hi! I’ll be right with you.” A girl shouts from behind the bakery counter when I step through the door as she pipes frosting onto a cake that towers over her.
“Yeah, no rush.” I call back with a tight smile. What was I going to say? How was I going to make it out of this alive?
And that’s when my very own angel of death steps through the door, disguised as a 6-foot-something giant dressed in his slacks and instead of his usual suit jacket, he has on his leather one that shouldn’t make him look more attractive, yet it does.
“Maxon?” I hiss, arching a brow at him.
He spots me and grins, stepping up to me and wrapping an arm around my waist and placing a kiss on my cheek, tingles shoot across my skin where his lips touch, and, as if he felt it too, he hesitates a second, his lips barely grazing my cheek before pulling away entirely. “Hey honey, hope I’m not late.”
It takes me a full second to pull myself together and I stare at him in complete confusion until he pulls out his phone and flashes the screen at me. “You sent that SOS text complaining about your bride and groom canceling to me.”
The color drains from my face. “That was supposed to go to Laney, we’re getting coffee when I’m done with this.” I say quickly. That text was supposed to inform her that I might not make it because I was stuck in wedding planner jail. NOT to the man standing in front of me.
“I kind of figured. But also thought that you could probably use my help.”
I knit my brow at him, confused until the implication dawns on me and his actions suddenly make complete sense. “What? No, absolutely n-”
“Hi! Sorry about that, what can I help you with?” The cake decorator asks, wiping her hands on her apron as she smiles at us, her eyes darting between the two of us.
Panic seizes me and I cut a quick glance at Maxon who grins at the decorator and sticks out his hand. “Hi, we have an appointment for a cake tasting.”
“Oh!” She says, glancing to what must have been a note behind the counter. “The Jacobs?”
He snaps his fingers. “That’s the one.” He says and he is so incredibly lucky that that was the name of the missing bride and groom. Because I’m just staring at him in complete shock. “Sorry if we’re late, that’s my fault.” He adds with an apologetic look.
“Oh, no worries, you’re right on time.” She says, and waves us towards a table in the corner. “You two can just take a seat right here and we’ll get the mini-cakes right out to you.”
My mind is still racing as Maxon and I settle at the table. I stare after the girl for a moment as she retreats back into the kitchen then glance to Maxon, shaking my head. How do I keep finding myself in such unfortunate situations? It’s like my life has turned into some kind of sitcom without my consent and I am NOT okay with it. I narrow my gaze on the man in front of me that is without a doubt, the biggest problem in this entire fiasco, before leaning across the table to whisper. “What are you doing?”
He waves around us. “Cake tasting, I like cake.”
I shoot him an unamused look. “Max, you know what I mean. Why are you doing this?”
He raises a brow at me. “I can’t just want to help my friend?”
I narrow mine in return. “Max…”
He shrugs. “I needed to talk to you about some stuff for your case. Figured I could take you out for a late lunch after this.” He motions around us.
Instantly my guard goes up, over the last couple of days, something has shifted in the way we’ve interacted. I’ve had to catch myself multiple times from the feelings that keep bubbling up. Something inside me screamed that those feelings were what he was aiming for though and I had no idea why…
Everything between us belongs in the past and I’m not looking to change that in any way. Despite what my heart screams at me to do every time he flashes me one of his mischievous smiles.
“Thanks, but like I said, I have plans with Laney.” I say, glancing at the tabletop, trying to focus on the lines of the woodgrain and not get lost in his chocolatey eyes.
“Oh,” The disappointment in his voice feels like a knife to the chest. “Wait, is this the same kind of plans you’d claimed that morning at Danika’s?” The corner of his lips pick up in a crooked smile.
I glare at him. “I’m meeting her for coffee if that’s an acceptable answer?”
He arches a brow at me. “I don’t know, I might have to come with you just to make sure you’re not trying to give me the slip again.”
“I’m not trying to give you the slip again.” I say defensively and almost wince when his side smile turns into a full-on grin.
“So, you were giving me the slip that day.” He asks, shooting me an accusatory look.
My mouth hangs open for a second as I stare back at him, trying desperately to think of a way to backpedal myself out of this conversation, but instead I just dig myself into a deeper grave by saying, “If you want to come see for yourself then fine.” I cross my arms over my chest, instantly regretting my own words. “And then you can go, and we can talk about the case stuff tonight.”
His smile doesn’t fade in the slightest as he watches me and if I’m not careful I know I could fall into those deep eyes and never come out again. Nor would I want to.
“It’s a date.” He says, and I realize that smile isn’t a smile at all… it’s a dang smirk.
“It is not a date.” I say, pointing a threatening finger at him and he just shrugs it off like I pose absolutely no threat to him.
“Right, and I’m not pretending to be your doting groom right now.”
I roll my eyes just as the girl from before steps out of the kitchen with a tray of miniature, three tiered cakes, each frosted and decorated like the example photos the bride had me send them. She carries them over, setting the large tray with about six different versions of the cakes between Maxon and I and then goes into details about each one. After her short explanation she then leaves us to try the cakes in peace and Max doesn’t even hesitate before he cuts into the one she’d called “cookies and cream” which is chocolate cake beneath the perfect white frosting with cookies and cream frosting filling between the layers. He divides the piece in half before placing part of it on a separate plate and holds it out to me.
I eye the cake for a second, leaving it suspended between us like some unsaid olive branch.
“It’s not going to bite you.” He says, and I shoot him an unamused look. “They’re not here, they’re not going to show up. Might as well enjoy some cake.” He jiggles the plate.
I gnaw on my bottom lip for a second and am vaguely aware of his eyes darting down before I finally take the cake from him. “Fine.” I say.
He clears his throat, nodding. “Good. Nice to see you finally listening to reason.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I glare, taking a forkful of cake and shoving it into my mouth.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I suddenly understand why this baker is so dang hard to get into.
I take a second bite before the first one is even finished, letting the moist cake mix with the sweetness of the frosting and I eye the five remaining cakes, trying to remember what she’d said all their flavors were as well.
“Okay, I take it back, I’m not here to help you. I’m here to eat this cake.” Maxon says and I can’t help but laugh.
“Well, I suppose I should thank you,” I motion around us. “For this.”
His smirk from earlier returns. “No problem, honey.”