Page 16 of Icing on the Cake

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Beau

“What about the countless people who don’t have access to state-of-the-art kitchens? Eisley’s jaw tightens, and there’s a sudden spark of fire in her eyes. “Where do they go?”

I shake my head, confused by her sudden mood change. She’s defensive, giving me no choice but to wade into tumultuous territory. I remove my hands from her shoulders, aware that this discussion could turn ugly.

“Look, we can agree to disagree here. I’ve listened and see your point, but I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea to continue allowing anyone with a kitchen to serve the public. It takes training and education to learn all the ins and outs of a professional kitchen.” I thread my fingers through my hair. “Do you think it’s fair that I have to jump through regulatory hoops and pin twenty different health code papers to the wall so they're visible at all times, but you don’t?”

I grab the towel from my shoulder and toss it on the counter in frustration. The tension in the room thickens with each passing second. We’re at odds, but that alone shouldn’t come between us. This issue brought us together, but if we aren’t careful, it could also be what unravels us. So far, we’ve been able to tiptoe around it, though it’s continued to simmer beneath the surface.

“We’re not a bunch of potheads cooking up batches of weed brownies in our kitchens. We’re hardworking people trying to make a living like everyone else.” Eisley’s voice shakes, and she steps back.

Tears threaten at the corners of her eyes and, I’m the asshole who caused them. My pulse courses rapidly through my veins but getting bent out of shape doesn’t move the dial on the conversation.

“You are a hard worker. I know that.” I lower my voice. “This is bigger than you and me. I don’t want to lose you over this.”

“I don’t want that either.” A single tear rolls down her flushed cheek. “I just want to give people a chance to fulfill their dreams. Not everyone can afford formal education or get a loan for a commercial kitchen. Even if I had the money, I don’t have the clientele to warrant it yet.”

We stand, silently staring at each other for countless minutes. Is my desire to do right by the community rooted in selfishness, a way to ensure my business thrives by stifling someone else? Doing the right thing shouldn’t be about taking something away but rather clearing a path for opportunity. Eisley and I have been bogged down in the weeds, trying to change each other’s minds rather than find solutions.

We’re running out of time. The board meets with the public for one last time tonight. They’ll make their final decision in the coming days.

The Bakehouse’s morning crew begins trickling in through the front door. Their murmured voices carry into the kitchen, where Eisley and I are at a standstill with no solution on the table.

“I need to get the staff started on the day’s specials.” I hate to end our discussion on a sour note, but there’s work to be done. “If you can hang around for a bit, I’ll drive you home.”

“I think I’ll walk. Clear my head and think, you know.” She frowns. “Thanks for taking care of the wedding cake for me. I’ll reimburse you for the supplies.”

“I love you, Eisley. I don’t want your money. I want you.” I reach for her, unable to let her go without assurance that we’re still good. I wrap my arms around her, holding her small frame close to mine. “We’ll figure this out.”

She nods into my chest as she grips my shirt. When she looks up at me with glossy eyes, my heart shatters into a million pieces. Unease creeps into my gut, knowing we can’t keep this hanging over our heads.

“Save you a seat at the meeting tonight?” I know she wouldn’t miss the meeting, but I need to know we’re still in each other’s corner.

“Sure.” Eisley lands a tender kiss on my cheek, and then gathers her things to go.

She slips out the door, and a knot tightens in my chest. We need a resolution before this whole thing tears us apart.

CHAPTER 12

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Eisley

I’m consumed with a whirlwind of emotions, running the gamut from frustration to sadness, so I spend the rest of the day baking. Losing myself in the kitchen, sifting and measuring, is cathartic, giving me time to process my first argument with Beau.

Why can’t I get past the giddy honeymoon stage of any relationship? There’s always a glitch when things start getting comfortable. The blinders come off, and suddenly, faults and scars are on display. It’s usually sooner rather than later that things go belly up for good. Have Beau and I reached that point?

Sage and Hope swing by my apartment to pick me up for the meeting. I greet them with a batch of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.

“Thanks for the lift.” I pass the boxes of cookies to the front seat. Both women turn and stare.

“Spill it,” Sage says.

“What?” I feign ignorance.

“The cookies.” Hope frowns. “You bake when something’s weighing on your mind.”

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