“Oh. You didn’t have to get me anything.” She stops the mixer, sliding the bag closer to her and peeking inside. I’ve placed my knife down, not wanting to miss the reaction to what I already know is in the bag. Her mouth drops open as she pulls out the apron Joey special-ordered for her. “You got me my own apron?” She holds it out, and I see the moment she notices her name on it. Her eyes well up with tears at the sentiment, just like any Wicks girl. “Thank you so much!” She flings her arms around Joey’s neck, clutching onto her apron.
Joey looks over at me and smiles as he returns the hug. “I was the last person who thought you should be working here, Brooke. But you’ve actually done really well. And you’re a natural back here with my cupcake.”
She spins around and slips her apron on, tying it around her neck. “Look, Dylan! It matches yours!”
“Apron sistas,” I sing, seeing Joey grimace behind Brooke.
“Goddamn it. I knew I should’ve ordered me one,” he mumbles as he turns around and disappears up front.
I stifle my laugh, dumping my chopped-up chocolate pieces into a mixing bowl. I brush my hands clean on my apron and walk over to examine Brooke’s frosting. Dipping a teaspoon into the bowl, I pop a small amount in my mouth.
“Well?” she asks fretfully. “Oh, God. Please, tell me we have time to make another batch of this?” She slaps a hand over her eyes. “I will never forgive myself if I’ve ruined some girl’s wedding cake.”
I grab her arm and pull her hand down. “It’s delicious, Brooke. Really. Try some.” I hold out a spoon and she takes it after studying it for several seconds, the obvious shock pouring out of her.
She dips it into the bowl and tests her creation. Her eyes flutter closed. “Mmm. Holy shitballs.” They pop back open, full of wonder. “I made that?”
I hold out my hand and she high-fives me. “Told you you could do it. Don’t doubt yourself back here.” I walk to the fridge, grabbing the heavy cream and catch her taking a picture of her frosting with her phone.
I love that: her excitement, her pride over what she’s created.
I’m so glad I hired Brooke Wicks.
After setting a large saucepan on the stovetop, I pour in the heavy cream and turn on the heat. Once I get it to a boil, I can add the peppermint extract and strain the mixture into the chocolate. Then it has to cool before I can frost my cake.
My wedding cake.
Both cakes are already assembled and ready to be iced. I’ve timed everything perfectly, allowing us to frost the other bride’s cake while my icing cools. The sugared orchids are already assembled for her cake. I tackled those bright and early this morning, knowing they would take me several hours. They turned out amazing, incredibly life-like, and I sent a picture to Reese so he could see what had me skipping my run today. His response was just as sweet as the flowers.
Reese: You amaze me, love. You always have.
And then he sent me one more a few seconds later.
Reese: One more day.
I turn the heat off for the cream and carry the saucepan over to the worktop. I slowly pour the mixture into my mixing bowl, whisking the contents as they melt together. As soon as the cream touches the chocolate, that familiar smell permeates my senses, filling me with the memory of this frosting. The only one I have besides the time I made it for Mrs. Frey’s anniversary cake. Reese hasn’t had this frosting since he ate it off my body on this very worktop, and when I was deciding on what to do for my own wedding cake, I knew I had to incorporate this flavor somehow. However, it’s not going to be hot pink this time. At least, not on the outside of the cake. I’ve tweaked the recipe to leave out the shaved peppermint sticks, opting for the flavor from the extract instead. And with a little help from some food coloring, I’ll have a beautiful white-mint chocolate wedding cake, as opposed to a pink one.
The shop door dings open as I set my empty saucepan back on the stovetop. Juls comes walking into the kitchen, carrying a small envelope with Ian right behind her. She’s dressed chicly as usual, while Ian is wearing the same attire I’m used to seeing Reese in.
“Is someone getting married tomorrow?” Juls asks, walking toward me. She stops when she sees Brooke’s apron. “Aww, I love that.”
“Joey got it for me,” Brooke states, smiling over at my thoughtful assistant as he walks into the back.