The silence stretched between us like a rubber band about to snap.
She rushed over to me and lifted onto her tiptoes, planting her lips on my cheek.
“Don’t go,” I begged, emotion hurting my chest when I felt her begin to cry.
Tears burned my eyes, then escaped down my cheeks when she pulled away and ran through the door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Holly
“So, we have three weeks without Calvin?” I sipped my coffee at Whitney’s mahogany kitchen table.
“Yup. So, it’s all about the dress, ‘bout the dress, no trouble.” Whitney danced and sang around the kitchen to her own altered lyrics.
“You’re awfully happy for a woman who won’t have sex for almost three more weeks.” I teased, then closed my eyes against the reminder that I wouldn’t be either.
I already missed Ace. I missed his body pressed against mine. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought. At least Whitney knew she’d be with Calvin again. I didn’t have anyone.
I cleared my throat and read from my little notepad that had wedding doodles all over the front. “Okay, so today I’ve mapped out the cake testing bakery locations, the floral shops, the chair store, and—”
“Bakeries?” Whitney slammed her hand on her hip and tossed me one of her famous toddler’s in tiara’s runway poses. “I already know who’s making my cake.”
I groaned. We’d been through this before. “Whitney, this is your special day. I’ve only made cakes for simple little Indiana weddings, not big fancy shindigs.”
“Trust me, Holly. Your cakes are far better than anyone else’s. In fact, let’s print you up some cards today and start passing them out.”
I held up a hand. “Whoa, slow down there, girlfriend. I can’t just start making and selling cakes out of my kitchen.”
She raised a brow. “Why not?”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Because I’m not a fan of prison? I need a business license, home processing—”
Whitney held up a hand. “Okay. Okay. I get it. But you can still bake for a friend, right?” she asked, grinning.
I grinned back. “Yes, but I really think you should leave the big cake to a bakery. I can do the groom’s cake and some other pastries to fill out the table. Will that work?”
She grabbed my hand. “You have tasted your own cake right? Nothing I’ve ever put in my mouth tastes better.”
“It’s just that people here tend to expect everything to be sophisticated.”
“And your mirror icing isn’t sophisticated?” she argued. “Or your roses aren’t the prettiest I’ve ever seen?”
I sighed and scratched off the cake testing, realizing that changing Whitney’s mind wasn’t possible.
“I’ll help you with anything you need. I’ll be your assistant.” Whitney smirked, waved a wooden spoon in the air, and continued her rhythm challenged style of dancing.
“How in the hell were you ever a cheerleader? You have absolutely no rhythm,” I teased. I scribbled dance lessons onto the itinerary for the day. “Look up a few different dance studios you’d like to visit.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Wow. It’s like that?”
“Yes. It’s exactly like that. You need to save yourself some embarrassment and learn a few moves before you get out there on the dance floor in front of God and half of New York.”
I scooted out my chair, gripped my notebook, and worked on pushing Whitney out of the house to get this day started. “We have a ton to do before the wedding. I thought you’d planned all this already,” I complained good-naturedly. I wasn’t really complaining. November was still six months away.
She and Calvin had selected the Eventi in Manhattan, an upscale venue, that still allowed for a more intimate setting that suited them best. They’d chosen the end of November because it would be during the off season and give them a few months of wedded bliss before spring training hit again.
“I did plan it already. Part of the planning is planning the planning.” She smiled at her own cleverness.
I had to roll my eyes at that.
“Scratch off chairs. Eventi has the ones I want.”
“So, dance studios and floral shops. Later, we’ll look online and choose a cake style you like, and I’ll order anything special I’ll need.”
“Sounds good. Oh, add lunch to the list. I’m starving.” She rubbed her belly.
It was barely past breakfast, but I was feeling hunger pains too. “Okay, brunch is top priority.”
Whitney grabbed her coat and her car keys, stood by the door and tapped her foot. “Ya comin’ or what?”
“You are a bridezilla,” I teased.
It was nice being out on the town with Whitney. It was still cold, and snow was clumped up along the sidewalks, dark and nasty, but there was still something magical about the city.
By mid-afternoon, we’d blown through half my list and had even stopped at a few places I thought would be the perfect location for my own bakery some day.
“What do you think of Holly’s Tasty Cakes?” I asked her and she waggled her hand. I laughed. “I know, it’s kind of tacky.” I peeked up at her through my lashes so I could catch her response to my next statement. “Ace offered to buy a bakery for me.”
Her face morphed into sympathy. “Oh, Holly.”
“Yeah, he wanted it to be called Ace’s Cake Batter.”
“That’s cute.”
I nodded. “I told him no, then he counter offered. Asked me if he straightened himself up, would I let him buy me one then.”
Tears swimming in her eyes, Whitney pulled me to her, hugging me tight.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Holly, but I really do wish he could straighten up, and the two of you could be together.”
“Really?”
I could feel her nod. “I’m just afraid it will never happen.”
Blowing out a breath, I agreed, “Me too.”
Hooking her arm through mine, we kept walking until we came upon a little diner. The burgers looked greasy, the fries crisp, and the shakes thick and delicious. We settled into a booth and placed an order.
Her phone pinged, and she pulled it out of her purse. Her eyes brightened. “Do you want to try on your dress?” Whitney asked.
“Yes!” That was the part I’d been waiting for.
I’d seen pictures, but I hadn’t had the gown on yet. It was special order, and Whitney’s message told her it had arrived just an hour ago.
“I love this neighborhood.” I dipped a fry into my chocolate shake and stared out the large window. It was nostalgic but not run down. All the businesses on the street were family owned, and it perfectly catered to both middle class and upper scale consumers without any discrimination.
“This is where I would love for my bakery to be.” I daydreamed about the perfect building, painted a frosted pink, white icing décor for the trim that looked good enough to eat. I would place all my special creations in the large glass window, luring everyone inside for a taste.
“What about that place?” Whitney pointed to the building across the street.
It was tall and narrow, just like I wanted. Two-story, so I could have storage space and working space for cookies, cupcakes, and fondant designs.