“German chocolate. My favorite.” Mr. Crisp grabs the cake and licks his lips. “I might just dive into this on the way home.”

“There’s extra coconut in the frosting just for you,” I direct toward him. His eyes enlarge as his grin spreads across his face. “And thank you for the gift. You really didn’t have to do that.”

Mrs. Crisp waves me off with her hand, her other tucking into the crook of her husband’s elbow. “We’re so happy for you, dear, and we hate that we can’t make it. Make sure you bring in lots of pictures when you get them developed.” She waves goodbye, Mr. Crisp winking at me before they slip out of the shop.

Joey slides the gift back over in front of me. “Go on. You know you want to.”

I look at him, then at the gift and decide that yes, I definitely want to. After tearing the paper and handing it off to Brooke who deposits it into the trashcan, I pop open the top of the box. Joey helps me shift the tissue paper around until I feel the smooth edge of something. I grab it with both hands and lift it out, smiling so big my cheeks begin to ache.

I place the hot-pink, brand new, industrial-size mixer on the counter. “Oh, wow. This wasn’t on my registry.”

“No, but you definitely needed this. I always said you should have more than one mixer,” Joey says, running his finger along the top of the handle.

“And it’s pink. I love that,” Brooke adds. “Every girl needs a pink mixer.”

I nod in agreement, lifting it off the counter and carrying it into the back. I slide it onto my shelf next to my beaten-down, ten-year-old mixer I still love as much as the first day I got it. Of course, it pales in comparison to this brand new one, but it will always be special to me.

Brooke comes walking into the back and steps up next to me. “Would it be okay if I watched you bake sometime? I’m really interested in learning how you whip up these incredible creations. That cupcake I just ate was insane.”

I grin boastfully at the compliment. “Sure. If you want, I could use some help tomorrow when I start the two wedding cakes. Joey can manage up front without you if you want to give me a hand.”

She places her hand on my arm, her face falling in surprise. “You’d let me help make your wedding cake? What if I mess it up?”

“Are you planning on messing it up?” I ask.

“No. But I can be a bit clumsy.”

I grip onto both her shoulders, gaining her full attention. “I’ll let you help out on the other wedding cake. How’s that sound?” She laughs, giving me half a smile. “Come on, let’s go finish those insane cupcakes.”

We did just that, Joey grabbing two more and polishing off the rest of the chocolate mousse ones. My eyes kept darting between the clock on the wall and the front door, especially when the bell would alert us of someone walking in. But Reese never came. He never stormed into the shop. He never hauled me over his shoulder in typical Reese fashion. He didn’t even call the shop number again. By the time 6:00 p.m. rolled around, I was no longer agitated with my quick-tempered fiancé or fuming over what happened with Bryce. After saying goodbye to Joey and Brooke, I took to the stairs with an emotion I didn’t plan on feeling the week of my wedding.

Disappointment.

26

After kicking off my shoes, I plop down on the bed and grab my cell phone I had discarded hours ago. Seventeen missed calls from Reese, all stopping around the time he called the shop phone. I scroll through his text messages, noting the time on them, as well. His last one to me was at 2:13 p.m. and it wasn’t the usual sweet and dirty text messages I’m used to receiving from him. I roll over onto my back, holding my phone out above me as I re-read it.

Reese: Ignoring my phone calls is really mature.

Yeah, well… okay, fine. It wasn’t my most mature moment. But him jumping down my throat about an outfit he thoroughly enjoyed was a bullshit move, especially after he got his rocks off on it. I get that this situation is irritating and making us both homicidal, but I was not at fault here. And right now, I’d really like hearing that from someone other than my inner self.

I close out Reese’s text message and pull up Juls’ contact info.

“Hey, sweets. It’s so weird you called. I was just thinking about you.”

I grab a pillow and stuff it underneath my head. “Oh, yeah? Let me guess. Ian filled you in on my afternoon of fun?”

The sound of chips crunching enters the phone. “Hmm? No. What afternoon of fun? Ian’s working late tonight, and I haven’t talked to him since before lunch.”

“I had a run-in with Bryce after giving Reese a lap dance in his office.”

The loud, crinkling sound of the chip bag fills my ear. “Chips aren’t cutting it. I need real food. Have you eaten yet?”

“Um, no. But did you hear what I just said?”

“Yes, and you can fill me in on every single detail when you meet me at Fletchers. I’m dying for a burger the size of my head.”

My mouth waters instantly. Carbs? Hell yes. Fuck you, salad. Nobody wants you. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, stepping into my ballet flats. “Okay. I’ll meet you in twenty.”

Standing up, I grab my keys off my kitchen counter, freezing in place when the BMW emblem catches my attention. I should tell Reese where I’m going. Even if I was avoiding him earlier, I’m not anymore. And coming home to an empty loft and not knowing where I am would surely make things worse. I open a text message as I lock my door behind me.