Chapter 9
Nine
Past
“Babe,the cake testing is scheduled at Le Pain Fantastique.” I knocked on my fiancé’s office door before entering. When he turned to look at me, something inside me faltered. “Is something wrong?”
I thought his eyes appeared cold for a moment—but I must have imagined it.
“Henry?” I prompted. Beneath my fingers, I felt the bite of my purse’s stitching. I had come by to pick him up from his office, only to find his desk covered in paperwork. “Are you ready to go? We’d be early if we left now, so if you need a few minutes to finish up?—”
“Hey.” He glanced at the time as if he weren’t expecting me for another few hours. “I won’t be able to make it to the cake tasting anymore. Something came up at work.”
“Oh.” Disappointment coated my tongue, but I couldn’t be too angry. Henry had never blown me off before. Something important must’ve come up for him to cancel at the last minute.
It’s a fluke, not a pattern, I assured myself.
“Should I reschedule?” I winced inwardly as I thought of the baker, who had sounded excited when she called me earlier to set up the tasting. Hopefully, the samples weren’t going to be tossed out.
“No, no, you go ahead without me.” Waving me off with his hand, he added, “Take one of your girlfriends with you?—”
Henry caught himself, remembering that he hated my best friend, Piya. She ended up on his shit list after a soured business deal with her family. I’d barely seen her since the engagement. I presumed she maintained distance out of respect for my upcoming marriage, or perhaps she understood that my loyalty now lay with Henry. Things were awkward between us, especially after Henry made his feelings for her and her family perfectly clear.
“Actually, take Xander. Yes,” he decided. “Take Xander to the tasting.”
“Xander?” I repeated.
“Is that a problem?”
I was perplexed by his suggestion but quickly shook it off. “No. Of course not. That’s a great idea,” I said brightly. “I’d love to go with Xander.”
Henry grunted. “Good. I’ll text you his number.”
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it momentarily, staring at the skylight pouring sun into the spacious foyer.
Our engagement party was less fun than I had expected. Henry had barely spoken to me that day, which made sense. The party was a performance for his associates, and he said he wanted to put up a strong front for them. I circled around, focused on everyone else’s good times, and was thrilled when I finally connected with Henry’s eldest.
We had more fun than I’d ever hoped, given that I was his father’s second wife. I’d braced for resentment, and to my delight, he had been warm and friendly—like a friend rather than a future stepson. More than once during the party, I found myself wishing that conversation—and laughter—flowed as easily between Henry and me as it had between me and his son.
Maybe it was the Pretty Woman fantasy of seeing a stiff professional slowly unwind and discover his fun side.
It’s okay if he’s serious, I told myself, opening the text message that just came through with Xander’s number. Relationships can be different with different people. Maybe he needs different things from me than his sons do. That’s part of being human.
Besides, Henry had done the unexpected: he had stepped in and saved me at my very worst. I could never forget that.
“Jordan? Hey.” Xander picked up on the second ring, sounding slightly out of breath.
“Did I catch you at a bad time? You sound like you’re—” I hesitated a beat too long. “—busy.”
“I was out for a run. Did you need something?” he persisted.
“Oh, well, actually, yes. Your father had to back out of the cake tasting for the wedding, and he suggested you might go in his place.” This was a terrible idea. What college sophomore wanted to go cake tasting? “He thought it might be a good bonding experience for us,” I improvised.
“My father did not say the words bonding experience.”
A laugh escaped me, and I looked guiltily over my shoulder. “Okay, no,” I said, walking farther down the hall. “But I would love a second opinion for the cake flavors.”
He was silent for several moments.
“Xander?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m still here. I can go with you.”
I ended the call, promising to text him the details.
I felt a little flustered while texting. He’d known it was me right away, meaning he must’ve asked someone for my number after meeting me.
That was sweet…and unexpected.
The expensive boutique bakery had thick panels that could have been made from fondant. Xander pulled up in front of the building, executing a perfect parallel park. He was in jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the very expensive watch around his wrist. I’d considered buying Henry one just like it for his birthday, though he’d turned up his nose at the tinted sapphire face. Watching the defined veins of Xander’s forearms accessorize the watch, I was suddenly glad for it. As much as it pained me to admit, Henry couldn’t have pulled off this watch.
“I hope you brought your appetite,” I said, smiling up at him when he exited the car and held the door open for me. “There are at least three different cakes. I’m not completely sure. She said something about a ‘try and see.’”
His eyes went to me, lingering on my face as he pushed the car door shut. Then he looked away. “What’s a try and see?”
“I suspect it means they’ll have us try some cakes and then see if we like it.”
He smiled—and the gesture was startling because he was usually either deep in thought or keeping up a poker face. When he smiled, he didn’t look much like his father.
Shoving that thought away, I said, “After you.”
He held back. “Ladies first.”
“Age before beauty,” I shot back unthinkingly.
His mouth quirked up, and he held the door open. This close, I could smell his cologne—sharp and cedary. “Are you calling me beautiful?”
“N-no,” I said, flushing. That came out sounding much more ridiculous than I meant. “Never mind.” I shoved his shoulder and felt a flicker of surprise at how hard his arm was beneath the light cotton blend.
Xander laughed, shaking his head as I walked through the door.
I breathed in the smell of powdered sugar and warm baking bread. This smell made me nostalgic for my childhood and made me think of close families and big kitchens. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” I said.
A flicker of regret pounded through me again that Henry wasn’t here to share this.
But then Xander said, “I’m glad you asked me to come.”
“Oh, good, you’re here, Jordan. I was just about to come out and look for you.” The owner of the bakery, a sweet woman named Kelly, dusted her hands off on her apron before holding one out to shake. “It’s so good to meet you at last. And you must be Mr. Maxwell,” she said to Xander. “Congratulations!”
“Uh, no,” I said, laughing awkwardly. “This is my soon-to-be stepson. Henry is—ill—and couldn’t be here today. Luckily, his son was available to volunteer for the task.”
Kelly faltered only for a moment. “That is lucky,” she said, smiling at Xander, whose face was now blank. “You can tell your dad what he missed because I put together an amazing menu.”
She herded us to a corner of the empty bakery, where she had already set some plates. There were glasses of champagne, too, which I hadn’t asked for. It was the same brand and vintage that I had already ordered in bulk for the wedding. I thought that was a considerate touch and very professional.
“For the first layer, you were thinking lemon and elderflower, right?” Kelly put a slice of white-frosted cake on each of our plates. “There’s a little bit of lemon zest in the frosting. Enjoy!”
“I bet you didn’t think your afternoon would look like this, did you?” I teased. “I can’t remember the last time I had this much cake for the fun of it. Probably not since grade school.”
Xander sipped his champagne. I noticed Kelly hadn’t bothered to ask him whether he was old enough to drink. He wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to rat him out. “Is my father really sick?”
“N-no,” I said. “He had…work.”
Xander nodded as if the news didn’t surprise him. I watched him take a bite of cake, chewing it thoughtfully. He had great table manners, handling the silverware with a delicacy that was surprising given the size of his hands. “It’s good.”
I beamed. “It tastes like spring.”
“Here’s the second layer,” Kelly said, holding two more plates. “Vanilla and rose.”
“I’m sensing a theme,” Xander said dryly.
“I’m serving a dry brut,” I said. “The cake is going to be three layers, covered in orchids. Every tier is going to be botanically infused.”
“Did you train as a chef?” He didn’t ask rudely, tilting his head as he regarded me curiously. “You seem to know a lot about food.”
“No.” I blushed. “I’m not very good in the kitchen. But I’m pretty good at putting flavors together. I love food. Maybe in my past life I was a chef,” I added. “Or maybe in somebody else’s story for me, you know?”
It felt strange to admit this out loud. On one of our dates, Henry had bragged to one of his colleagues that I “ate like a bird.” After that, I hadn’t felt fully comfortable eating around him. It felt like I needed to keep up the illusion that I was an ethereal creature who thrived on light and air.
“What do you like?”
“Well, I could live on cheese.” I laughed. “I guess you could say that I have a fondue attitude.”
Xander stared at me—and then laughed.
“Here’s the last layer.” Kelly came with another plate. “Bourbon-infused chocolate and a few sprigs of French lavender.”
“Mm, chocolate, lavender, and bourbon.” I closed my eyes. “I’m in heaven.”
When I opened my eyes, Xander was staring at me. He looked quickly away, a hard set to his jaw.
What was wrong? Had I said something to offend him?
After arranging a few final details, I said goodbye to Kelly. Xander waited a polite distance away and slowed as we left the building. I presumed it was so I could keep up with his long strides, but he was suddenly awfully distant.
I tilted my head up to look at him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” His voice sounded reserved.
“Okay,” I said doubtfully. “If any of the flavors were terrible, tell me.”
His mouth twisted, and he looked away. “The flavors were fine.”
For some reason, I didn’t believe him. For another more peculiar reason, I stopped in my tracks. Xander did the same out of curiosity. He jerked when I threw my hands around his neck and took him into a hug.
There was a long moment where neither of us spoke, though his hand had unthinkingly landed on my back. When I pulled back to gaze at him, he appeared unsure how to process such a simple affection.
“What was that for?” he asked in a muted voice.
“For coming to the tasting with me. I had a really good time today, thanks to you.”
A thick wall started to build behind his tranquil eyes. It was my turn to be perplexed. He acted like no one had hugged him in years, and affection shouldn’t be given freely and instead earned through monumental effort. I knew Henry was rigid with the boys, but surely he hugged them now and then.
I tried to lighten the mood. “Well, I was going to take you out for dinner as a thank-you, but I’m so full I might explode if I eat anything else.”
His eyes flicked back to me. “Hug is fine.” I was shocked when he added, “And I had a good time at the tasting, too.”
I leaned over to squeeze his arm. There was another one of those faint, reserved smiles, veiling some sort of secret.
Maybe one day, he’d trust me enough to tell me what he was thinking.